A/N: I'm going for shorter chapters in order to release more regularly. Less will happen in each and parts (like summer interludes) will be more shorter chapters than 3 long chapters. I hope you all still like it!.

"Hermione-chan!" Anya called.

The petite blonde girl ran up to Hermione, beaming, the stars twinkling in her bright blue eyes.

"Konbanwa, Anya-san," Hermione smiled and waved, but she still felt uneasy on her feet.

"Yo! Hermione-chan!" Sam ran after Anya. "Oh, are you alright?"

Sam's brown eyes scanned her and his full lips twisted into a grimace as he noted that Hermione was very much not alright. She would have never thought him a year older when his dark freckled skin blanched at the sight of Hermione retching.

"Evanesco!" Hermione waved her wand to clear the vomit when she was done. "Sorry, guys. I–erm—I–erm—I'm never going to get used to portkeys. Any chance you can forget you saw that?" she added with a squeak.

"Sorry," Sam said, helping her up. "I'm Canadian, we still tout the time we burned down the white house."

Hermione feigned a wounded gasp. "Hey! That was us!"

Anya giggled and rolled her eyes. "If you ask me, all Anglophone countries are the same," she insisted, emphasising her already prominent German accent.

The three of them broke out into laughter and Hermione found her footing, the green of the clearing and star-spangled navy sky finding their proper places quicker than last time. Though the cloying humidity still made her gasp between laughs, and only the sea breeze whistling through the trees brought some relief.

A caw echoed overhead, and three giant birds circled high above them, their massive wings nearly blotting out the starlight. Their feathers extravagantly spread out refracting the warm lantern light from below.

The beauty of the giant petrels in flight was undermined by the thudding in Hermione's chest. She remembered that they'd be flying to the island on their backs. Metres above the churning Philippine Sea—or was it the Pacific at that point? Hermione couldn't help but imagine falling endlessly through the sky and ocean, screaming silently as the air moved around her. Would her lungs burst first or would she drown?

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! 1…2…3… Hermione clasped her hands together and stayed her breathing. She mentally ran over the Pythagorean Method in Arithmancy, magical properties of three different woods, Willow, Cherry and Elder, and three Defence spells she'd learned from her father.

How many times had Hermione made this trip now? She wasn't going to fall. She just had to let someone else, the Petrel, have control over her movements for a half hour. She did this before, she could do it again.

I hate heights. At least if we ferried I could jump ship if I needed. I'd be fighting choppy waters, but it'd be me.

"Earth to Hermione?" Sam waved a hand before her face.

"Oh–erm–sorry, Sam!" Hermione shook her head. She'd just been mentally reciting a paragraph from Standard Book of Spells Grade Six for the third time when Sam interrupted her. She followed his hand to the landed petrels, gaijin students mounting their backs three to a bird (save one).

Hermione took in three deep breaths before following Anya onto the closest one. Squeezed between Anya and Sam, Hermione tried not to look at the black waters beneath them, and failed. She tried to assure herself that she'd made the crossing safely twice now, it would be safe this time too.

Wind roared past Hermione's ears and Anya's blond ringlets brushed the top of her head while Sam's chin dug into her scalp. She felt like the filling in the world's worst sandwich. If she could just not panic, it would be fine.

Finally the birds slowed. Hermione opened her eyes and her heart leapt at the familiar sight. Golden lamplight shone through the landing clearing, bouncing off the thick bamboo and vanishing under the canopy. Looking forward, Hermione could barely make out the silhouette of the tiered castle where Hiro, Saiyaka and an expansive library waited for her.

She couldn't wait to see Hiro and attend classes. There was still so much for her to learn. Once they landed in the clearing, Hermione dismounted, uneasy on her feet, but steadied by Sam and Anya on either side of her.

Excitement bubbled within her as they walked the winding cobblestone path. Hermione wasn't the only one, everyone spoke about reuniting with their friends, various countries and all nine of them immediately switched to Japanese when they landed. Many already using suffixes.

Hiro, Hermione felt her lips break into a stupid grin and thanked whatever power was out there that she didn't have the energy to skip or sing. She was frightened she might have. They passed under the red Tori gate and followed the floating paper lanterns until they reached the massive stone steps leading up to the castle.

The eight exchange students passed through the main entrance under a thick cord with hanging talismans, Hermione admired the gorgeous murals painted on rice paper once more depicting a winter tsunami, a spring shower of sakura blossoms, summer was a bamboo forest and autumn was branches of a maple with bright red leaves. Other images depicting the island at different points in the year followed the dominant seasonal murals.

Anya, Hermione and a nervous looking eleven or twelve-year-old girl, Monifa Sani, who hailed from Nigeria made their way to the girls' dormitory. The two tried to comfort the girl but all they managed to get were her name, home country and school, Uagadou. Her Japanese was clear and accurate, but slow. Not as if she didn't know what she was saying, but as if she was certain she'd get something wrong.

Monifa was slightly taller than Hermione, but very thin with short curly black hair, brown eyes and skin that was nearly black. Yet despite her height and the stellar grades needed to enrol in Mahoukatoro's cultural enrichment program, Hermione couldn't help but compare her to Neville. Or even herself. She was just so terrified.

I wonder if you grew up in a dungeon too, she thought reflecting on her own first July in Japan.

The girls took off their shoes at the entrance to the common room and climbed up the stairs, Monifa Sani leaving at the first floor, and Hermione on the third, Anya's would have been on the seventh.

Hermione knocked, excited to talk the night away with Saiyaka. A girl with dark brown eyes framed by large round glasses and black twintails that trailed down to her waist answered the door, beaming brightly.

"Neechan!" Saiyaka all but pulled her into the room.

Neechan, it meant older sister, and Hermione and Saiyaka were the same age, but they both called each other that, despite being simply friends. Though if Hermione did have a sister, she was certain she'd be like Saiyaka. They shared a love of learning, magic and any written word they could acquire. Both cared deeply about the rights of non-human sentient creatures and desired to be journalists.

Confusing as it was to anyone else, Hermione was happy for her friendship with Saiyaka, especially when she thought she'd ruined it a year ago when Saiyaka confessed she had a crush on her and Hermione didn't return her feelings. Luckily, they were still close, like sisters.

"I don't think I can call you that anymore," Saiyaka said, patting her head. "You forgot to grow."

Both girls were small for their age, but Saiyaka decided to grow more it seemed. What was once a couple of centimetres in difference, now amounted to Saiyaka being a whole head taller than her.

"It's a nickname for older sisters, right?" Hermione insisted. "And if we're both calling each other that we're already muddying the waters."

"Just because it's true doesn't mean I'm not right," Saiyaka teased.

"I wait a whole bloody year to see you again and you start with teasing me?" Hermione sighed, flopping onto a futon next to Saiyaka's fat cat, Momo. "I guess I'll just go to sleep with Momo-chan here and not tell you about what I leaned in OWLs level charms."

"Arse!" Saiyaka threw a pillow at Hermione. "I guess I won't tell you about my girlfriend then."

"Girlfriend?!" Hermione bolted up and crossed her legs, leaning forward and displacing Momo. "Oh, sorry, Momo. Saiyaka. Spill. Now."

Saiyaka's dark olive skin blushed a bright red and she averted her gaze, fiddling with one of her plaits. "So–erm—maybe not a girlfriend. But I got your attention, didn't I?"

"Oh, honestly, Saiyaka!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I was just joking. Wait–erm–I'm sorry, I just–erm–but–er–is there a girl?"

Saiyaka nodded. "I seem to only have crushes on girls I can't be with. It's Kaori."

"Yamato Kaori!" Hermione squeaked. "Hiro's sister and Anya's girlfriend Kaori?"

"And the girl that made you realise you like girls…" Saiyaka sighed. "I always thought she was beautiful, but now I'm—I'm dreaming about her."

"I think it's impossible not to like Kaori if you like girls," Hermione sighed, laying back down.

"Maybe she's part Veela?"

Hermione rolled over onto her stomach and tapped her lower lip pensively. "I don't think orientation has anything to do with it. I think I read somewhere that the enchantments don't affect women at all. Though I wonder how they came to that conclusion, self-reports? I—"

"I was joking, bakka!" Saiyaka threw another pillow at her.

"Jakkamashi!" Hermione chucked the pillow back at her.

"You're using the wrong 'shut up'," Saiyaka teased.

"I'm gaijin!" she cried between fits of laughter. "What's your excuse, Oneechan?"

Both girls fell back in laughter and Hermione thought for a brief moment that that must be what it felt like to be a normal girl. No dark wizards, no plans to thwart, just Hermione and her friends.

And Hiro…My Yamato Hiro...Ugh! I'm hopeless!

She was supposed to write once she arrived…Severus hadn't left the table staring at the notebook for perhaps an hour. He'd write demanding Hermione respond, but she'd have no way of knowing.

"Severus?" Remus set a tea next to him. "Are you alright?"

"I could strangle that girl," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, that would be counter-intuitive," Remus sat next to him leaning in.

"Indeed," he nodded. "I suppose it would invalidate my efforts to keep that little idiot alive."

"You know that's not what you think, Severus," Remus's pale green eyes found him with a serious expression.

Severus didn't care for the interrogation. Even if the man might have had a point. He sighed and tried to think of something to say to create some distance. Though he didn't know if he actually wanted the emotional distance.

He didn't have to. Ink finally marred the yellowing parchment in his book and he watched with baited breath as words appeared. Was she okay? Was it the damn petrels wasn't it? What a stupid way to transport children.

Hi, Dad, I made it safely. Momo (Saiyaka's cat) ran off with the book, had to wrestle it back from her.

For a bloody hour?! He wrote back, momentarily forgetting about the eyes on him.

It took a half hour to fly from the landing, Dad. And it took perhaps ten minutes to get from the island landing to the school proper.

He must have accounted for at least some of that, he was certain. This wasn't the first time she'd gone to Mahoukatoro. Was she gaslighting him? The nerve of that girl. He wrote back:

Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape, I know precisely how long it has taken you to get from the landing to the school in the past. I have accounted for that time. Would you like to explain yourself, child? As demonstrated, I can wait.

He waited for Hermione's explanation, now keenly aware of Hermione's cat narrowing his yellow eyes in judgement. Even his owl partook, despite Arichmedes's antagonistic relationship with the girl, and glared at him. Remus sat patiently by his side, not looking at the words, but could perhaps tell by his expression that Severus was not particularly happy with his child at the moment.

Dad, Hermione wrote. I got sick on my way up as well, you know what I'm like with portkey and flight travel. I was embarrassed, sorry.

You should have opened with that, Hermione, he wrote back. He did, indeed, know what she was like with portkey and air travel. Something told him she wasn't being completely honest with him, but he didn't want to interrogate his sick child. Remember to take the anti-nauseant potions I sent you with. The sleeping potion after that will help you adjust to the new time zone.

Actually, I've already taken them, she wrote. I'm getting very sleepy. I should sign off so I can sleep. Take care of yourself, Dad. Tell Remus I said 'hi'. I love you. Goodnight.

Very well, Severus wrote back. Write me tomorrow evening after your classes. Take care of yourself. I love you too. Goodnight.

Severus sighed and shut the book. "That little girl is going to be the death of me."

"You already miss her terribly, don't you?" Remus placed his hand over his.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "She's only been gone what? An hour and a half? I'm simply worried. She's so frail and trusting and—-I know you and Potter have a relationship, but I think you need to have a child to understand this."

Remus looked away sadly. He didn't like to be reminded of where he fell short with the boy. He felt immense guilt over not contacting him until Potter was thirteen. Severus imagined that Remus was the closest thing the boy could have had to a supportive adult while Black was imprisoned. That must have weighed on him heavily.

Yet, Remus wasn't a parent. There was no way he could understand what Severus was going through at the moment. Why should Severus feel guilty about pointing out the obvious?

"I worry about her too, Severus," Remus leaned his forehead against Severus's. "You wouldn't have made me her godfather if you didn't know that. You have to trust her and live your life. She's more clever than you think."

"I suppose you have a point," he said, his eyes drifting to the book. "It's just—she's just a baby."

"No, Severus," Remus smiled. "She's your baby, but she hasn't been a baby for a long time."

Hermione woke at the crack of dawn, exhausted but determined to watch the sunrise over the Pacific. She watched as golden rays broke the blue, purple and red, glistening over the salt water, and casting warm light onto the swaying forest in the breeze. From this vantage point, she could see it all.

Momo left Saiyaka's futon to crawl into Hermione's lap. She began purring as Hermione scratched behind the fat calico's ears. "Momo-chan, your mama will feed you soon enough."

But I'm being so cute! She seemed to say as she looked up at her with her bright amber eyes.

"'Mione-chan?" Saiyaka muttered as she tried to stumble out of bed. "Are you already awake?"

Yet another nickname or did she mutter my name? Hermione thought before turning to her and smiling. "I always want to watch the sunrise at least once while here. I didn't wake you, did I?"

Saiyaka shook her head and reached for her glasses. "Not at all. I didn't have much time to sleep in anyway. Ah, vision, how I missed—Neechan, you have grown!"

Hermione looked down at her navy nightdress, puzzled. She was still the same damn hieght thanks to her stupid decision to transfigure her already delayed body into a half-cat again. Did she gain weight? Maybe it was more obvious under the nightdress than her sailor uniform.

"Maybe I should cut down on the rice," Hermione mused, wondering how it happened when her desire to divy food into thirds prevented her from eating whole meals. Even when she wanted to!

"I'm talking about your breasts," Saiyaka blushed. "Don't worry I had the same awkward conversation when I went home for winter holidays. Oh…and I think I said it the exact way—erm—sorry."

Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot, and not from the sun. For about half a year Hermione had been using a wide strip of fabric to support herself, and it was starting to fail. She'd simply been too embarrassed to go to her father and tell her she needed bras. It was awkward, though looking down she was acknowledging that she couldn't get away with it forever.

She had begun wrapping her torso when Saiyaka stopped her.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Saiyaka asked.

"Yes, but so does not doing it," Hermione admitted, not looking over her shoulder. She didn't want to face Saiyaka at the moment.

"Here, Neechan," Saiyaka came up to her, holding something.

"Saiya-chan!" Hermione squeaked, covering herself.

"It's a bit small for you I think, but it'll be better than that," Saiyaka pointed at the off-white strip of fabric. "Tell you aren't using cloth for your—erm—guest?"

"Guest?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You know," Saiyaka flushed once more. "Your—erm—blood festival?"

"Bl—no!" Hermione cried. "Sorry. Erm—I can get what I need at the hospital wing and girls' toilets."

Hermione shuddered remembering her first period. She put it from her mind and took Saiyaka's offered bra. "Thank you, Neechan."

And it's still uncomfortable! Hermione would have to run mental calculus to see which of her options were best.

"Here, Neechan," Saiyaka offered.

Saiyaka had already been dressed, her pink robes, similar to a yukata, now etched with gold plum flowers, and her gold obi with pink floral patterns along it.

Hermione struggled to tie her obi correctly, and was grateful her robes grew with her. Rather than the plain pale pink they had been, gold patterns of lilies and wisteria sprawled over the fabric and her obi now had a single gold stripe.

"You've advanced two years and you still can't tie an obi properly?"

"We fasten our outer robes over our pinafores with clasps in Scotland," Hermione explained.

"I thought you were Korean, don't you have to wear hanboks and tie otkorum? That should be harder."

"That's a rumour, remember?" Hermione remembered Inuyama Rie's rumour from the previous year about being a Korean mailbox baby when Hermione mentioned she didn't know where she was born. "I mean, I might be Korean, though I'm pretty sure I'm also half Black." Though I feel so at home here I want to be at least part Japanese—I mean, I could be—-ugh! I'm such a weeb!

Hermione felt belonging at Mahoutokoro that she didn't feel elsewhere. People looked at least a little like her, and didn't shun her at large for her father's actions. But it went deeper than that. She felt it was stupid, but not knowing her ethnicity bothered her. Anya once said she looked half-Japanese, but she felt like a fraud in a kimono, or when she ventured to claim Korean solidarity with Cho Chang, or even simply stating she was half-Black. As if she didn't deserve to claim any of those identities. And she couldn't ask her father because every time she brought up her mother he would lash out at her or even lie. She also wished she knew her magical heritage for sure. Was her mother a muggle? Was her father her biological father? Why did he bulk at the past? Hermione's left side hurt at the wondering.

"I do," Saiyaka tied off a plait with a stretch of red ribbon and looked away. "I didn't mean I thought you were–erm—I thought you might have been. Though I suppose if you were raised in Scotland, you'd have no reason to wear a hanbok. I'm sorry."

It was Saiyaka that comforted her in the toilet back then, Hermione felt like she should have known better, but it was a mistake. Hermione made plenty of her own. Too many of her own.

"It's okay, Saiya-chan," Hermione smiled. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"Kawaii!" Saiyaka cried as Hermione pinned her fringe out of her face with the flower pins. Saiyaka grabbed another stretch of red ribbon from her bedside cabinet and took either side of Hermione's hair, tying the untamable curls that puffed out from the top and sides of her head in a bow. "You look like a little doll!"

"Who are you and what the hell have you done with Saiyaka?" Mi rolled her eyes. "You sound like Miyuki!"

"But would I sound like Miyuki if I asked you to tell me more about wandlore you learned back home?" Saiyaka smiled cheekily before pushing up her too big glasses.

"Okay," Hermione smiled. "You passed the test. Shall we get breakfast? I've been dying for matcha for a year."

"Caffeine addict," Saiyaka stuck her tongue out.

"Caffeine addict weeaboo edition!" Hermione smirked.

"Come on, Scotland," Saiyaka ushered her out the door. "Let's IV drip matcha into your system."

"Ohayo, Saiya-chan, Mione-chan!" Kaori called to them as they placed their indoor shoes on.

Yamato Kaori was a great beauty and a talented witch. Her pale heart shaped face and doubled lidded almond shaped brown eyes shone expressively, nearly sparkling in the early morning sun. Shiny black hair trailed past her waist in soft flowy, straight locks. The seventeen-year-old no longer tied her forelocks back with a bow, but instead with a plain black clip. Kaori's talent was worn literally on her sleeves, her robes now completely gold with white carnation patterns etching across it.

Anya came down the stairs after Kaori, her blond curls bouncing up and down around her shoulders. The advanced student also now had more gold than pink on her robes. Where Anya, like Hermione, was only at Mahoutokoro one month of the year, the gold with pink peach blossom patterns simply indicated her status as an upper-year student.

"O-o-ohayo, Senpai," both girls squeaked as Kaori set her hand on each of their heads.

Anya covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Kaori turned back to her girlfriend, confused. "What?"

"Nothing, Kaori-chan," Anya stood on her tiptoes to kiss her cheek. "Hermione must be dying to see Hiro."

She was. Just the sound of Hiro's name made Hermione's heart leap with joy, the fireworks blooming beneath her feet and in her head put all thoughts of her silly crush from her mind. Hiro was her boyfriend, her true love.

"Wait!" a voice cried running down the steps.

Hitoromi Miyuki dashed down the steps, shoulder length black hair in a ponytail bound with pink ribbon, with gold clips in her hair to match the pink roses on her gold robes. Miyuki's already pretty round face was made up, elongating the lashes around her wide dark eyes with pink lips. She always tried so hard, and she never needed to.

Miyuki was bubbly, and sweet. The girl two years her senior had never been anything but nice to Hermione, but she couldn't help but be jealous of her. Everything Miyuki did and everything she was was cute and pretty. She wasn't a flawless beauty like Kaori, but she moved with confidence and exuberance. It was amazing Hermione never developed a crush on her straight friend like Saiyaka did years ago.

"Took you long enough!" Kaori teased, showing off her one 'flaw', a pronounced canine.

"Do you know how long it takes to look this cute?" Miyuki pouted before noticing Hermione. "Mione-chan!" she pulled her into an aggressive hug. "Oh, I love the flowers, you look so cute! Like a little doll! Kawaii!"

Hermione might have blushed if Miyuki's bear hug didn't threaten to crush her. "Miyuk-chan, I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry," Miyuki released her. "Wait till Hiro-kun sees you! He'll just die!"

Now Hermione did flush, certain she was now the same colour as her robes. She was torn between hoping he'd have the same reaction and wondering if she still had a chance with him. Surrounded by beauties praising her only made her more aware of her flaws.

It's a shame about the hair and teeth, you could have been pretty…

You're like a six-out-of-ten, it's not impossible someone might like you

Busaiku!

'Evoking the essence of a fawn or other infant creature'…that was the closest my own dad came to telling me I was pretty. I wish I didn't care.

"Are you okay, Neechan?" Saiyaka whispered as they left the girls' dormitory.

"I'm fine," Hermione forced a smile as her internal excitement gave way to anxiety over Hiro. "Let me tell you about wandlore."