Loyal Pet

by H Bregalad

Bellatrix is an animagus and escapes with Sirius, Harry catches her and decides to keep her for a pet, she decides to raise him into a Lord and Master that she can be proud to follow. Rated M for sex and animagus sex. Warning: Polyamory eventually. There is also violence, including towards children and animals. You have been warned. Based on timbarney110's challenge 'loyal pet.'

12. Year 4 Chapter 3

Hermione inspects

Harry hadn't returned her call yesterday, she wasn't particularly confident he'd even been passed her message. And given the state he was in last time she'd seen him, she wasn't willing to wait any longer to find out how he was doing. And she'd sort of expected him to be inviting her along for help doing his ministry required homework, and so far he hadn't.

So Hermione had decided to try out the dubious experience of the Knight bus.

She was not impressed, but one could not deny the bus's speed, and the logistical convenience of such.

Hermione walked up Privet drive and found number 4, she walked half way across the yard before her attention was arrested by a skinny boy with dragon-hide gloves spidering his way down a very tall ladder with a large plastic pail.

Nim was on the roof above where he'd just been working.

"What are you doing Harry?"

"Cleaning the gutters," said Harry, "What are you doing?"

"Wondering about how you're doing."

"I'm doing amazingly well, all things considered," said Harry.

"That was a very poor imitation of, 'm fine, go'way,'" said Hermione, "would you like to try again?"

"Nope," said Harry.

"Do you suddenly like it here this summer?"

"Certainly not," said Harry, "But you're here now, and Nim and Hedwig, that outnumbers my relatives for hours and hours. Also Aunt Petunia picked a sunny and dry-ish day to assign this task, and a day that the neighbourhood ladder was available to borrow. Which saves me climbing the tree and risking my neck trying to walk on tile shingles."

"I thought you liked risking your neck," said Hermione.

"No, not particularly," said Harry, "it's just a generally hard to misunderstand method of expressing my desire for friendship."

"Wait wait, go back," said Hermione, "Harry, are you flirting with me?"

Harry shrugged, and looked up, "Nim, am I flirting with Hermione?"

Nim sneezed.

Harry went … weird, it wasn't a slump, but it was like the energy had leaked out of him, the opposite of a cheering charm, he turned back around and looked at the ground instead of at her, "Nim says 'yes'."

"Oh," said Hermione, "Interesting."

Harry looked up, "It is?"

"Definitely," she said, "So … what is the goal of this flirting?"

"Given that apparently I don't know what flirting is, I'm not sure why I might be doing it, or the best way to stop."

"Normal reasons to flirt," said Hermione, "are because you want friendship."

"You're already my friend."

"Or one of the benefits thereof."

Harry blinked, "so … 'please stay for long enough that I can finish this and actually do something with you?'?"

"For instance, yes."

Harry blinked, "Was that an answer to the question or the question about the question?"

"Both if you finish quickly enough," she said, "but safely enough that you can do something after and not go to hospital."

"Right," said Harry, he re-positioned the ladder and scaled it rapidly, pail in hand.

"I'd ask you to read chemistry or materials science to me while I work," he called down, "But those topics aren't allowed around here."

"Good point," she said, "and I didn't bring Shakespeare."

"What did you bring?"

"Wednesday's newspaper."

"Oh … I suppose I'm in it for real this time, instead of just as a prop for Lockhart or the Minister."

"You certainly are, this time I'm there as your prop."

"Court scribe is significantly more helpful and important than a photo prop," said Harry, "How bad is it?"

"Well, depending on the article, you're everything Draco wants to be. Or you're everything Lockhart warned you not to become."

"Not both? Politically involved?"

"Basically."

"There's a letter to the editor from Draco's mum."

"What does she have to say?"

"That it was very fine that you were trying to uphold the traditions of the peoples of Britain, and she looks forward to reading your report of the proceedings when the DMLE includes it in the brief for the Wizengamot members, and she knew you were taking an interest in the law, but she hadn't expected you to be prepared to do this so young, and it's a shame that the Ministry took so long to give Pettigrew a trial that you had to do it, and … a bunch that I suspect is for sympathy, such that if the Wizengamot does decide to cancel your judgement, they'll at least delay your right to hear pleas until you are of age instead of blocking you completely or stripping it from your title."

"Ah," said Harry, "It's nice to have an ally who can see the long game."

"Also I'm fairly sure McGonagall won't be able to object to you taking the law class now, even if she doesn't like it. And I don't think she's ever mentioned it to anyone, but maybe that only happens in the sixth year letter."

Harry started climbing down the ladder again.

"Good point," said Harry, "So, do I write her a letter now, or wait until I finish pre-reading the textbooks so I can say that I did in the letter."

"How far along are you?"

"All the way through both, reading just the chapter summaries, past half way through the first book reading whole chapters."

"That's a weird way to read a book."

"It seemed to want to be read that way, so I tried it. I think it was correct. Given that it also seems to be trying to be a summary of the whole law."

Harry climbed up again.

"Interesting," said Hermione, "You know I want to read them when you're done."

"You could probably read the second one before I finish the first one, they're about parallel legal codes and they probably alternate years, just like the first two years of runes."

"Oh," said Hermione, "Who teaches it?"

"I believe Dumbledore," said Harry, "I know he teaches the sixth and seventh year Survey of Alchemy elective, it makes sense he teaches Survey of Law also."

"Oh, that's reasonable."

Harry climbed down, "My second guess is Madam Pince, but … somehow that theory doesn't feel as cleanly … acceptable."

"Right," said Hermione, "anything else you know about Hogwarts that I don't?"

Harry blinked, "Miss Peeves is a dryad?"

"What?" said Hermione, "do you even know what a dryad is?"

"No," said Harry. He climbed up again. That should be the last span of gutters for the front of the house. Nim seemed to think so too, because she climbed off the roof onto his shoulder. Which seemed to slow his cleaning movements quite a lot, and his speed climbing down almost as much.

Nim jumped to the ground before Harry reached the last rung, she seemed thankful to be there.

"Hello Mrs. Nim," said Hermione, "Are things alright in your world, now that you've reached the ground?"

Nim gave her a look and a single vehement mew.

Harry smirked and shortened the ladder as far as it would go, and carried it and his pail off somewhere, with a call over his shoulder of, "I'll be right back."

.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry called into the house, "Hermione came over, I'm going to show her the shed."

"That's fine, Harry," came a shrill voice, "but invite her in for some lemonade first."

Harry blinked and stared at Hermione, then blinked again, he muttered. "I fear for her health and sanity, she just ordered me to invite a witch into her house."

Hermione's eyes popped open, "Be nice."

Nim sneezed.

Harry smiled, and opened the door, "Do come in," he said, "There's cold lemonade, I made it fresh this morning."

"From lemons?"

"No, from powder," said Harry apologetically, then ruined it with: "only the best."

Nim sneezed again.

Hermione had trouble not laughing also.

In the kitchen he dithered over glasses for a few moments before selecting two large plastic cups and poured each of them, then he called, "Aunt Petunia, would you like a refill before we go outside?"

"Yes."

"I'll be right back," he disappeared in the general direction of the mutter of a telly, and shortly he was back, returning the pitcher to the icebox, and leading the way outside to the shed.

It was empty except for a lawn mower, a rake and shovel, several bags and buckets of probably seeds, fertilisers, and insect killers. Also his school trunk and a card table, and a desk chair that somehow she imagined had been abandoned on the curb not once but twice or three times. (It seemed to have been put back together various times with glue, glue and string, tape, and varnished-over canvas.)

He sat on the trunk, and offered her the chair. She didn't really want that chair but when she sat down, she found that it held her weight and more.

"I almost feel like I could tip it back. And it wouldn't fall apart."

"I haven't broken it yet in real life, but I did in a vision."

"A vision?"

"Animagus Vision Potion," he said.

"Oh! What did you get?"

"Almost certainly lion, although there were complications, that I wondered if they were related to having two familiars, and Nim wonders if they are related to being a parselmouth from you-know-who and a protection ritual from my mother."

"Interesting," she said, "a lion, imagine that."

"Do you want to try it?" said Harry, "I've tried three times. Once I suspected that snake and deer weren't me, just echos of other people's rituals, they faded back and somehow … kind of merged with the lion. So now there's just the lion."

"Three times," said Hermione, "I thought it was one time."

"One, three, or seven, are the standards I read. Anyway, I think I've read all the correct books at least once, but some of my transfiguring isn't up to scratch, so I'll leave transfiguring myself for later, but … having a picture seemed to straighten me out somehow, and … make communicating with Nim more straightforward in some ways."

"Hmm," said Hermione, "How long does it last?"

"I don't remember," said Harry, "I think about ten minutes, maybe twice that."

"And you don't mind sitting and waiting for me to come out of that?"

"No," he said.

"Alright," she said, "sure why not."

He got up and opened his trunk, after some rustling around he produced a vial. And after a moments hesitation he pulled his gloves out of his pocket. "Sorry these aren't clean, but … first time I tried the potion I woke with the vial shattered in my hand. I'd rather you were wearing them."

"Sure," she said and put them on, then took the vial, unstopped it and drank.

She handed him back the vial as her vision shrank to grey. She sat down on the floor before something worse happened.

Then instead of sitting in a shed, she was in the dark, underwater. There were a few seconds hesitation as she brushed away the tension and cobwebs of trying so hard to lucid dream, it had been very vivid, though why she'd dreamed of being a human of all things. No matter of course but … weird.

Something silver flashed past and she darted after it, a moment later it was caught and impaled between two claws, and her back was arching from lack of air and she paddled for the surface.

A short rest to breathe and then she gobbled down her fish. Maybe she should be careful of eating the fish heads, if it made her hallucinate being a human. But no, she was too hungry, and it was just an old witch tale that fish heads could cause hallucinations. She dived again and caught another fish. As she paddled up to the surface she noticed the edge of the lake and contemplated exploring everything she could find there, she swam there while snacking on her second fish. On the shore sat a human who gazed on her with a strange equanimity, and there was something she owed him. But what? She rolled around trying to convince him to play or communicate, and then her eyes were open and she was in a shed instead of on grass, but Harry Potter was still there sitting patiently watching her.

"Are you all the way human again?" he asked.

"Did I change into something else?"

"Your eyes didn't have Hermione behind them for a little while," he said. "You sat down, and then lay down, which looked fine, but you weren't breathing until you arched your back. Then you seemed fine. Though half the time you looked at me, but didn't know me. Nim says lots of animals take interest in a pair of eyes without it meaning anything."

"Oh."

"So, do you know what you were?"

"Hunting and eating fish," said Hermione, "the first fish took me longer than maybe it should, so I was out of breath when I reached the surface, but the second one was faster, and then I swam for shore where you were waiting."

"Fresh water or salt water?"

"Fresh water."

"Anything else?"

"I'm sure I had a tail."

"Most things do," agreed Harry.

Huh, good point.

"I had fur and claws," she said.

"Mammal that hunts fish," said Harry, "I can only think of two."

"What's the second," said Hermione.

"Otters," said Harry.

"OK, what's the first then?"

"African swamp cat," said Harry, "more restricted habitat but in the same general area as serval cats."

"Oh," she said, "I've never studied them. But given my patronus, I'm going to assume otter, until I know more to differentiate between them. The other animals that I know of that hunt fish are bears and racoons, but they don't as often swim to accomplish it. Or seals and sea lions, but they don't use claws I don't think. And bears don't have nearly as much tail as I had."

Harry nodded, "makes sense."

She sat up and dusted herself off, "That was interesting," said Hermione, "But … how many books do you have for me to read before we attempt the transformation?"

"Two or three," said Harry, "There's probably a single one somewhere that collates out everything except what we want, but … that might not be as good over all, just for the animagus transformation."

"You are so ravenclaw sometimes."

Harry blinked and looked away, "Oh, that stereotype."

Nim exploded out of the end of his trunk and sprang into his lap.

He folded in around her and they rocked for several seconds. Then she started purring and they relaxed.

"You two are different," she said, "Did something happen?"

"Less distractions here," he said, "more time to spend getting to know each other."

Nim sneezed.

What else are summer hols for? Besides reading of course.

"Anyway," he said, "Do you want to spend the whole afternoon looking through my trunk like it's the book shop, or a library, or do you want to put that off for the last half hour before you go, and do something else first for a while."

Hermione stared into his eyes, "I'd like to see your room, and … your cupboard under the stairs."

Harry sighed.

Nim yowled and hopped down and bumped Hermione's arms until she moved them back. Nim walked into her lap and stared up into her eyes.

"What's she saying?"

"She's not saying much," said Harry, "She might be trying to read your mind."

"What does she want to know?"

"How long you've known I was neglected, and why haven't you done anything, and several other things."

"Because," said Hermione, "I didn't have proof, and I didn't have a testimony from you that I could be 100% certain was intended to inform, rather than entertain or relax our fellow students."

"Alright," said Harry, "Yeah, that's fair. What do you want to know?"

Everything relevant?

"Pretend you're pleading for justice," she said, "what would you tell me about your relatives' behaviour."

Harry shrugged, "Nothing, they're alright now."

"But they weren't alright before?"

"True," he said.

"Alright completely different angle," she said, "suppose you told me every single thing about them, and had me totally on your side, what would you want me to do?"

"Do about them?"

"Do about them? do about you? Do about anything?"

Harry closed his eyes, "Two years ago, I would want you to do what I did for Nim last year. What Ron and the Weasley twins tried to do. Physically they succeeded, even if not permanently or legally or whatever."

"Take you home," she said.

He nodded and … yes, his cheeks were shiny in places.

"Last year," she said, "you just ran away, you found Nim."

"Yes," said Harry.

"Why did you come back?"

Harry shrugged, "It's cheaper than the Leaky. One way I'm on my own with my familiars and can study magic for a small fee. The other way I'm on my own with my familiars and can sleep and eat for only the cost of … usually a morning's worth of chores."

"Ah," she said.

"If I lived at your house," he said, "would your parents have a fit every time they found one of us reading in the other's bedroom?"

"You ask that like there's not enough common rooms to go around," she said.

His eyes blinked wide, "Oh," he said.

"It would probably only take a few words to mom or dad to allocate one of the guest rooms into a magic-books-only study room, so as to leave the rest of the house muggle safe."

"And if there's no bed in that room, then it neatly avoids the girls in boys bedrooms or boys in girls bedrooms problem."

She stared at him, "does that really mean so much to you?"

"It doesn't to me, and apparently it doesn't to a good third of pureblood society which assumes that girls will learn the contraceptive charm at a younger age than boys even start being interested in that, and no one cares as long as there's no bullying and no unplanned babies."

"That's nice in theory," said Hermione, "But … broken hearts still happen."

Harry shrugged, "welfare is available, yet malnutrition still happens: No system is perfect, and given that the ideal is that no one is forced to participate in either the activity or the common system of behaviours around the activity."

"If I'd managed to take you home after your first year," said Hermione, "would you …

"And keep me? Yes, I would worship you by now, the way I worshipped Dumbledore until I found out he'd been partly responsible for my godfather being in Azkaban without a trial. Or the way Nim worships me."

"And we'd brush each others' hair and call each other step-sibling, and no one would worry about visiting each others' room?"

Harry shrugged, "I guess."

"Is that what you'd prefer?"

Harry nodded vehemently. Then looked away into the corner, "While we're entertaining hypotheticals in the deep past, I'd like to have grown up with my godfather."

Hermione winced, "fair enough, I deserved that."

He frowned like he hadn't meant that as an accusation or insult after all, only as … yet another counter-factual probably preferable to the actual past.

They sat in silence for most of a minute.

"It was only some ideas," said Hermione, "Why, what would you want to do while I'm here?"

Harry looked up, paused for a couple seconds, then smiled, "Also continue giving you a tour," he said, "just of favourite places rather than unfavorites."

"Oh?" she raised her eyebrows.

"There's a park down the street," he said.

"Within walking distance?" she said, "alright, now I'm jealous."

He grinned, "Come on."

.

As they walked, Harry admitted, "The other reason I wanted to put off going inside, is that being underfoot attracts extra chores."

"That is a reasonable thing to be cautious about," said Hermione.

"I don't mind some chores," he defended, "less so if they actually need doing. But some tasks I'm sure I get assigned in an effort to insure against … idle hands."

Was that shades of concentration camps, or was it merely standard summer over-scheduling, with chores as the theme? Harry now seemed to prefer she give them the benefit of the doubt. "Humph," said Hermione, "some adults seem to have no concept of the point of summer hols."

"So it seems," Harry sighed theatrically, and turned to grin at her.

Flirting again?

She grinned back.

He relaxed and pointed ahead to where they would be turning.

She took his hand.

He didn't seem to mind.

.

He gave her a long distance tour of the playground equipment, then showed her around the creek, and the wild area beyond it, including a berry bush, a clump of laurels, and two stands of mint. One of which might be mildly magical, but then if you let mint go wild, about every fifth volunteer clump was mildly magical, the way if you let potatoes go to seed, every fifth clump was poisonous, or whatever the ratios really were.

He showed her the fence with a broken out board, leading into an abandoned lot where he used to use to escape from his cousin.

He hadn't been that small at eleven. Just how long had 'collecting escape routes' been an important part of his mental landscape?

Once 'the tour' was finished, they explored the length of the stream from where it entered the park at one culvert and left again by another. Then they returned to the playground equipment.

Harry seemed intent to treat the swings as 'park benches for children,' rather than as swings. But that was fine.

Hermione pretended she was that civilised, though she wished she'd worn clothes more conducive for climbing, she would totally have swung from the monkey-bars and climbed the swing-set, just to prove it was possible, and that creativity mattered. But she hadn't, and she wasn't quite sure she was on quite close enough terms with Harry to borrow some shorts. But the idea persisted, so … how ought she have already noticed if they were close enough for that?

It seemed odd that she didn't know. Parvati and Lavender borrowed each other's clothes. (with asking) And of course Parvati and Padma did too. (sometimes without asking).

Hermione had long thought that she'd have friends that close someday, just not yet. And Harry had said those things about 'Christmas gifts that meant situational adoption.'

So if one did need permission-to-ask-permission to borrow clothes, maybe Harry had already given her that much.

And they were much closer to the same size than they ever had been before.

But he'd already hinted that spending too long in the house might burden him with extra chores, and she wanted an afternoon with him to herself more than she wanted to risk losing access to his time and attention in order to wear shorts or verify whether he'd give her permission, or give her the stink eye for even asking.

So she contented herself with swinging or with sitting still listening to him mangle transfiguration jargon trying to explain animagus theory. And with flirting with him via twisting far enough sideways to wrap her ankles around his ankles.

He seemed not to mind.

.

"That doesn't sound right at all!" exclaimed Hermione.

He stuttered to a stop and stared at her, "Shall I show you the book?" he said.

Hermione blinked. So … either I'm wrong, or his book is wrong … or he'd misunderstood his book … actually that was probably the most likely.

"Yeah," she said, "if … you don't mind."

He shrugged, "It's in the shed."

He held her hand on the way back.

Did he mean it as flirting? Or did he only mean it as forgiveness for doubting him again?

Hermione sighed.

.

His aunt was on the front porch staring at them, "Harry!" she roared, "You've got a letter."

"Hogwarts letters shouldn't be here yet," muttered Hermione, "anyway it's the wrong time of day for owl post."

"It is the right time of day for muggle post, said Harry, "Did you send me anything?"

"No."

"Then I can't imagine who it is. Shall we go check?"

.

It was from Mrs. Weasley. It seemed she'd spent an entire galleon on stamps and didn't plan to send any other letters in her entire life, so she might as well put them all on Harry's letter.

Or else she just liked the taste of stamp glue. Or licking stamps was just a novel experience and she'd decided to practice.

It turned out to be an invitation to the Quidditch world cup, and it sounded like she'd sent a similar letter to Hermione.

They agreed that it sounded like fun, or at least an insightful peak into wizarding society.

Then Mr. Dursley and Dudley returned and while Dudley laughed at Mrs. Weasley's incomprehension of postal protocol, Mr. Dursley turned a unhealthy looking colour and started berating Harry about apparently not sufficiently educating Mrs. Weasley how to use stamps. Or else for this being yet another example of wizards wasting resources.

Twice Hermione tried to defend him and lobby for letting him attend, and when that seemed to get nowhere, she took a turn to the end of the room and back. Lots of pictures of Dudley, she'd noticed that before, but no pictures of Harry. That reminded her of her other mission. She slipped away and peeked under the stairs. The latch being on the outside wasn't that weird of a feature, if the only thing being stored would be boots or old luggage.

When she got it open what she found was old luggage, but also crayon drawings, some drawn on the walls or stairs, and some drawn on paper and taped or tacked to the walls and the backs and bottoms of the stairs. Only a very little person could fit down there.

Though Harry had been very little when he came to Hogwarts. And he hadn't shot up as quickly as most of the other smaller boys.

Hermione closed the cupboard and looked around, There weren't enough seats around the telly. She walked over and found a couch pillow on the floor in a weird position. Surely not. It wasn't even a location where one could see the telly. Or only sort of, anyway someone wishing to see the telly could have put it in front or even at the other end of the couch.

Maybe it just got tossed in the corner and no one had put it away yet.

On the other hand there were only two other things out of place in the whole room, the remote and a lemonade glass.

Either that pillow belonged there, or it was newly out of place today.

Hermione opened the drawer of the end table beside the couch. Another remote, extra batteries, and Harry's hairbrush.

The pillow on the floor was Harry's place in the family room.

And I complained about how house elves are treated?

Harry never said I was wrong, he said I wasn't listening properly.

She closed the drawer and returned toward the sounds of the row. Somehow it was still mostly Mr. And Mrs. Dursley doing all the talking.

Dudley and Harry seemed to just be amazed by the spectacle.

The question wasn't even whether Harry would or should or could go, but the most unobtrusive and least cost method of getting rid of him, vs. extracting chore labour from him. Although they didn't say it quite like that.

Hermione slipped upstairs, Nim darted ahead of her and poured herself through a cat flap in a door with … an excessive number of door locks and privacy locks added on. None of them were locked and Hermione stepped in, then stepped out and propped the door so it couldn't close after her, especially not without someone making enough noise to alert her that they might plan on locking her in.

Hedwig was on a perch improvised from a neck-curtain rod. The dresser seemed divorced from its drawers, and yet, not containing enough clothes to have caused the dissolution. The bed clothes were neat and tidy, though the box spring was flat on the floor and parts of a bed frame were leaned or stacked against the wall. Perhaps for no other reason than to camouflage a napkin sized piece of cloth tacked to the wall.

She turned to Nim who sat on the corner of the dresser watching her.

"And this, this is better than ever before?"

Nim nodded.

"What do I have to promise to get permission to rescue him from here?"

Nim bounded down across the room and through the napkin. And a moment later came back with a piece of notebook paper with a pen trace of something.

She sat on the corner of the bed and let Nim bring it into her lap. Nim put it into her left hand, then slid it around and around, with her paw. And then Harry was there yanking the paper away and glaring at Nim.

"Harry?" said Hermione, "What was she trying to tell me?"

"That she's willing to recruit more minions for me, but not an elder sister."

"Do you agree with her?"

"It is true," said Harry, "That there will always be plenty of room for minions, it is also true that you might be overqualified to be just a minion."

Nim growled.

Harry grabbed her out of Hermione's lap and went and sat on the dresser.

After a second of wiggling he had her chest in the crook of one elbow and reached between her rear legs to…

Nim growled again.

To rub her. There.

Nim went limp. Limper. And started purring. Not the in-out in-out in-out of a happy cat. But the in-out-in-pause in-out-in-pause of … whatever the other form of purring meant.

"Harry?" said Hermione.

"Nim is mine," said Harry, "and I won't stop taking care of her. And she's not welcome to dictate to my friends what kind of friends they might wish to be."

Nim made some motion, and Harry let her down onto his lap, but didn't stop kneading up between her rear legs.

"You give your cat hand jobs?" said Hermione.

"You are also not welcome to dictate what kind of friend I am to my familiars," said Harry.

"I wasn't trying to," said Hermione, "I just … wanted to clarify, what was happening, because it looks like I was accidentally having a lover's triangle with a cat, and you decided to settle it by molesting her."

"I do not rape my friends," said Harry, "those who refuse to believe they have meaningful consent, I leave alone until I am consenting, and then I make an offer, and they either accept it or not."

"Uh, OK," said Hermione, "as long as the system works for everyone involved."

Harry nodded, "It's the best I've come up with so far."

"And if I claim that I have meaningful consent?"

Nim growled.

"It might would be a refreshing change," said Harry.

Nim went limp, Harry glanced at her for most of four more seconds, then took his hand out from under her, and petted her with both hands.

"Am I missing something else obvious?" said Hermione.

"Kneazles are pack hunters but lone breeders, lions are polygamous pride breeders, and tend to hunt adults-together until the pride is big enough for females and teaching mothers during the day, and alpha male and his adolescent sons that have not yet left home, at night."

"You're saying," said Hermione, "That I could enter your sex rotation without disrupting either of your psyche?"

"Yes," said Harry, "But as I am Nim's dominant male, she thinks by definition I will be a dominant male to all my other partners."

"Well," said Hermione, "That's nice to have spelled out."

"Why are you laughing at us?"

I wasn't laughing?

"Otters are intelligent and playful and curious and known to shag anything mammal in their general vicinity, some pair-bond in adulthood, but adolescents …"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Anything mammal," said Hermione.

Harry swallowed.

"You never hit me, you never claw me, you never bite me," said Hermione, "You tell me 'no' clearly when you mean 'no' and don't play around flirty when you mean 'now, please?' and I'll return the favour. And keep coming back until your otter friend doesn't have any curiosity left."

"I guess," agreed Harry.

"Is that what you want?"

"I think, yes," he said.

"What's left to ask?"

"What will your dad say?"

"He's who told me about otters."

"He scares me."

"Good, that means more Stockholm for me."

"What's that?"

"Falling in love with your kidnapper because they are nicer to you than anyone in the world at the moment, usually weird because it happens with a not very nice kidnapper, because that one has managed to seem the nicest kidnapper in the group, so far."

"Oh."

"You seemed to say that if I'd rescued you before Hagrid, you'd have as much Stockholm syndrome for me as you recently had for Hagrid and Dumbledore and Hedwig put together."

Harry shrugged, "that wouldn't surprise me, what's your point?"

"Simulate that in front of Dad, at least when I'm in the room, and we'll see how quickly he steps out of the way, or wishes us happy explorations together or whatever."

"I thought you were part ravenclaw, not part slytherin."

Hermione shrugged, "I was only trying to be aboveboard about how dad is likely to be."

"Oh," said Harry, "I still don't understand."

"If Dad thinks you're instigating things, he'll try to intimidate you and order you not to break my heart. If he thinks I'm instigating things and you just happen to be available and too stupid or too curious to turn me down … he'll tell me not to break your heart."

Nim grunted.

"I'm more OK with that than I am with thinking that we could sneak past them completely. They pay attention to different things than the Dursleys."

"Good," said Hermione, "How long do you need to pack up and summon the knight bus?"

Harry gaped at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

He clenched his teeth and swallowed.

Make the right decision Harry, reach out and take what you know is good for you. I can provide an opportunity but I won't steal you. No matter how much I think you need it.

Nim tore across the room and into the napkin on the wall.

That looked like a decision.

"Where does that go?"

"To the shed."

Harry opened the window a bit wider and woke Hedwig, "Do you want to fly to Hermione's Mom's house on your own, or ride there on my shoulder? In the knight bus?"

Hedwig leaped to the tree outside and went back to sleep.

"Clever girl," said Harry and closed the window.

Then he started emptying the dresser one drawer or 'drawer shelf' at a time and bundling all the clothes in each into a single shirt per drawer. Then sliding each bundle out the napkin curtain.

"Oh," said Hermione, "Those are your pet door tapestries that Ron mentioned."

"Yes," said Harry.

"So now your clothes are all in the shed by your trunk, waiting to be moved into your trunk?"

"Yes."

"Alright, good."

"I think that's everything," said Harry. "Unless I should pack towels and soaps."

"Only if you want to," said Hermione, "or your pillow."

Harry shrugged.

"What about your hair brush?"

Harry shivered, "Yeah."

"I'll get it," said Hermione, "you get your clothes packed and your trunk out front."

"Alright," said Harry, and walked around the bed, to 'dance' between leaning boards to get to the pet-door napkin and un-tack it from the wall and stuff it in his pocket.

He could have gotten there lots faster if he'd been willing to walk across the bed with his shoes on. The fact that he hadn't noticed that possibility meant he'd only internalised that he was leaving, not that he wasn't ever coming back.

But then, perhaps there was no reason for him to believe that until my parents verify how long he is welcome.

Hermione went downstairs, there were still people arguing about … she couldn't even tell, it didn't seem Harry related anymore. Something about a doctor and a diet.

She retrieved Harry's hairbrush, then went into the kitchen and got the letter from Mrs. Weasley, she didn't bother with the stamp-scaled envelope.

"What are you …" Mrs. Dursley caught sight of the hairbrush, "What are you doing with that?"

"I'm taking Harry with me," said Hermione, "Hopefully it will keep your house safer from the Weasleys' mishaps of transportation."

"Why are you taking him?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "He told me you used to treat him like a slave, but don't anymore, so I thought I'd check that out. And I can only see a modicum of difference. So you could say that I'm stealing your slave I guess."

Mr. Dursley turned a different unhealthy shade. And started in on something about Harry owing them an explanation.

"Harry won't be explaining anything," said Hermione, "Because Harry doesn't understand why.

"But I do understand why, so I'm going to tell you," said Hermione, "He's going with me because I told him to.

She leaned forward, "And do you know why he obeys me?" she said.

He started to work up a head of steam.

"Because," she whispered, finally getting him to shut up, "Because I'm nicer to him. It's called Stockholm syndrome, look it up."

She went outside and stood beside Harry with her wand hand out.

...-...

Harry visits

When the bumpy ride was finally over they took Harry's trunk inside. Hermione gave him the tour of the kitchen, then the library where her parents kept their books from the magical world. Then up to Hermione's room and across the house to the two guest rooms that she expected Harry would be welcome to pick from, She didn't even notice all the details he was picking out until they stepped into the second guest room and he said, "The other one."

"Picked already?" she said

"Its window faces the same way as mine, and the animal theme is African."

She turned and looked at him and Nim.

He glanced at Nim, "Don't stop on our account, we'll listen to the full tour."

Hermione shrugged and gave the rest of the tour of that suite, but it seemed pointless and she soon ran out of steam. They went back in the little green room with the east facing window and the beech tree outside. And yes a picture of a lioness and kits. Also elephants and gazelles and zebras.

Harry raised the window enough for Hedwig to enter and went into the half-bath again and ran the water for a little while, though the only thing questionable he'd touched since he'd last washed up at his Aunt's, was the bottom of his trunk and the knight bus. On second thought she should wash up also … Hermione went to the door but Harry wasn't washing his hands he was drinking. She wasn't about to…

"I guess I'll go bring you soap and towels," she said.

"Oh, thanks," he said and wiped his chin off with his sleeve. So much for civilisation, she'd have to work on him more than she'd thought. Or else … he really was that thirsty?

.

But when she got back with soap he washed his hands and dried them like a civilised person. And accepted his hairbrush from her and placed it on the end table by the only chair. She had the weird feeling that most of the time she walked in here the chair would be her place and the stool his.

At least the stool was an upholstered camel saddle, not raw wood like the stools in dad's drinking-with-the-men 'study.'

She was about to suggest they get his luggage from the kitchen but it was already there. And one napkin already hung by the window and one by the bed and the usual one was back on the side of his trunk.

She turned around the room again, looking for anything obvious that a hostess ought to notice was missing. It was … a weirdly academic exercise given that she'd never had a friend over. And usually steered clear of the business colleagues her parents' sometimes let stay over for conferences. She usually let Mom handle the hospitality when any of her aunts' or uncles' families visited. And anyway, they usually stayed across the corridor in the guest suite.

"What do you want to do next?" she said.

He stared at her. Nim grunted.

"It would worry you if I said 'cook supper'?"

"Mildly," said Hermione, "Do you want to cook supper to familiarise yourself with the kitchen so that you can find a mug in the middle of the night. Or do you want to cook supper to influence my parents into letting me keep you."

He swallowed and looked down, "Right, that's why I should wait for them to make the first move."

"What?"

"Serve means love," he said, "I … don't want to before they'd believe me. And cooking for just you before … never mind, would you like me to brush your hair?"

She didn't really, but if it really was love he was trying to show… and anyway wasn't like she couldn't read something while he worked.

"I'll get my hair brush," she said, and my book.

.

When she came back his feet were bare and he'd removed his long sleeve shirt, which showed his wand holster, which was oddly comforting, not in a 'I'm ready and like to move fast' sort of way, but in a, 'I have nothing to hide here' sort of way.

"Do you have any plans to do magic in the house?"

"Not really," he said, "But Nim thought, if there's an adult's wand in the house we can practice our small things, charms homework probably, maybe simpler transfiguration. Everything that has no chance of alerting muggles. And the tracking wards will think we're being supervised by whatever witch the wand belongs to."

"Devious cat," said Hermione.

"Anyway, just to be sure, she brought me a wand from lost-and-found that she was sure had enough dust on it to imply it belonged to a student who has since graduated."

"And have you tested that?"

"A little only in the shed with my trunk right there, and the wand is in my trunk. Not sure how far the effect is."

"Alright," said Hermione, "Something to try later, preferably not at home and not on the first day when mischievousness will be blamed on our working together rather than on systematic scientific inquiry."

"Hmm, right," he said, "should I say that was the second time today you've seemed slytherin?"

"I have to be to keep up with your cat and my parents," she said, "Anyway," she handed him her brush. And after a moment's thought as to what she was signalling, she took the hassock.

"You already read the runes book?" she said.

"Yes," he said.

"Then listening to it being read without being able to see the diagrams will be less painful than I feared."

"Oh, sure," he said.

He brushed and she read.

It was fairly obvious that he hadn't been around to brush it, and she hadn't bothered quite as often as perhaps would have been wise.

.

When his turn came she tried to be careful, his hair was a little longer and a little more snarled than usual.

"What are you doing different?"

"Aunt Petunia only brushed it in the morning after a shower if she felt like it, not every evening."

"I'm mildly surprised she brushed it at all."

"She didn't brush it to make me comfortable, she brushed it to make me a more presentable house decoration."

"That fits disturbingly well," said Hermione.

Harry shrugged.

Do you want to read something? She was about to ask when she saw that his glasses were in his hand.

Well that would make it easier to brush, fine.

Soon one side was clear of snags and she moved around to the other.

Oh, he's crying. Must be why Nim had grunted and gotten in his lap earlier. "Harry, are you alright? Did I pull too hard?"

"No," said Harry, "I'm fine."

"That's the Harry I expected to hear," she said, "now tell me what's actually wrong."

"You're not hurting me too much," he said, "and is it … also possible to be crying because something is finally right after being wrong for too long?"

"That is possible," said Hermione, "but I don't believe it in this instance."

"I want to be in a nightshirt and boxers instead of day shirt and trousers," said Harry, "But it's the middle of the afternoon."

"This is one of your preferred evening rituals, right?"

"Yes."

"And will you want to nap after this?"

"I guess."

"That's fine," said Hermione, "also did I mention this is your room?"

"You merely heavily implied it," said Harry, "But … I won't quite believe it until your parents confirm."

"I understand," said Hermione. An evening ritual telling him to relax vs. The building tension that her parents would kick him out as soon as they returned and found him here. That might drive anyone mental. Especially if he didn't know what state she'd left the conversation with his relatives.

"I think you should nap," agreed Hermione, "my parents aren't like your relatives nor the Weasleys I don't think. You'll want to be awake during tea. I'll try to keep them from keeping you up all night asking questions. I very much doubt they'll kick you out, I somewhat doubt they'll let you have chores before you've been here for at least a week."

"Oh."

"You should write your relatives. Probably tomorrow afternoon," said Hermione, "And there's still the question of how I should respond to the Weasleys invitation for the summer, in light of the fact that they seem to be counting on my presence as an enticement for you to come over."

"I don't mind," said Harry, "It's just that there are a lot of them, and I feel weird buying loads of books when they're watching, loads of anything while they're watching."

"Um," said Hermione, "I know your relatives wouldn't give you the money to buy loads of anything, just how rich are you?"

"Enough to live off for a year or three if I'm really careful, not enough to retire."

"Oh."

"I'm under the impression that an competent investor can double their money in seven to ten years, but … I know I'm not awesome, yet. And without a job I'd rather, you know, play it safe. On the other hand, Hogwarts is already paid for. Which means, theoretically I need a quarter as much to live on until then."

"Right, and you have four years left, which means, half a doubling by the time you graduate you might still have three years worth. If you can graduate with a job, it can all be towards retirement."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Conversely, half what you need to buy a house inside London?"

Harry snorted, "Good point, Your parents are rich then?"

"You know banks offer 30 year loans if you agree that they get to keep the house if you default?"

"Which is twice as long as either of us have been alive."

"True. But my point is that they have a lot of income, which is different than having a lot of savings. Though it helps."

"Right."

"You're done," she said, "Do you want me to get you anything before your nap?"

"Not that I know of," he said and moved to the bed and started emptying his pockets onto the night stand, and then undressing onto the door pegs, and then climb in bed.

The first had been interesting. She'd heard of boys and their pockets before. But had never seen it outside of a couple movies. She had seen what some girls could manage with purses and she mildly aspired to something more, in the sense of some kind of portable library and desk, maybe like a brief case only more so.

The second wasn't what she was expecting. She'd been in conference with Harry and Ron and/or Neville a time or two when any of the other boys came in to the dorm to sleep or change, some of them ignored her, some of them ignored her if her back was turned, the same way they'd ignore the other boys as long as their backs were turned, and most of them did turn their backs and/or when necessary, encouraged her to do so. And some of them got their clothes and went in the bathroom to change. Harry … didn't seem to mind her here. She wasn't even sure he noticed. Was that because his relatives hadn't tried to train him to notice? Because he was in his own room and it was her fault for being here to witness anything, not his fault that he was going to bed.

No, he'd have had plenty of time to notice and adopt whichever group of modesty behaviours he'd wanted from the other boys.

Oh, maybe he assumed I'd turn my back, which I did … once I figured out.

"Harry," she said.

"Hmm?" he said.

"Do you like bedtime stories?"

"Nim does," he said. An oddly quick and oddly evasive answer.

"Do you have something you're in the middle of reading to her?"

"In my trunk, Lord of the Flies," said Harry.

"Can she follow Lord of the Flies?" said Hermione.

"Better than I can, sometimes," said Harry, "I had to explain about parachutes and the pacific theatre, but yes."

Hermione sighed, "I wonder about you sometimes."

"We didn't start with Lord of the Flies," said Harry, "We started with Kipling's fairy stories, then Stalkie and Company, then when we ran out of Jungle Books and Tarzan, we asked the librarian for recommendations."

"Is Lord of the Flies the most science fiction-ish historical fiction you've read?"

"I was thinking about trying the tripod series again, now that I've hung around enough slytherins to grasp plots, see if I can follow the action now."

Hermione huffed, "I'm weirdly concerned that all of those are either extremely hierarchical and colonial, or blatantly rebellious."

"What?"

"Reading Tarzan, do you skip over the ridiculous racist bits?"

"No," said Harry, "They're hysterical."

"Depressingly," said Hermione, "They're also historical."

"I'm not so sure," said Harry, "They're often so over the top that I've wondered if … if he was mocking them to start with."

"Oh," said Hermione, "like Machiavelli?"

Nim purred.

"Who's Machiavelli?"

Nim made a half mew, and Harry sneezed, "Wow." A slow blink, "yes, sarcastic like that."

"So? Lord of the Flies?" said Hermione.

Nim and Harry perked up.

Hermione glanced over at chair and saddle on the other side of the room, then sat on the corner of the bed and opened to the bookmark.

The conch was still in existence, so that meant Piggy was still alive, and the resistance had not yet started. She could do this.

.

When she looked up again they were resting peacefully. She put the book down and left. She went downstairs and found Dad's copy of Lord of the Flies and reread the magazine entry folded up in the back, Pacific Island Monthly, Vol 37 (1966) No 10 (October) Pages 103 and 105. And her father's college paper, Abstract: Most People Cooperate by Default, because it is usually in their best interests, even war is a symptom of cooperation among individuals, though it can also be taken as an indictment of us for not dismantling our systems of structure and meaning when they are no longer helping us, and have started forcing us to harm others.

She left it on a table visible from the hall where she'd see it later and remind herself to go over it with Harry.

.

Dad called from his study and Hermione went. He was … re-reading, it looked like, her report.

"Mattress on the floor: might be normal in isolation, especially if he's recently destroyed part of the furniture and it has not yet been replaced.

"Kept in a Boot Cupboard, and child labour, hints of child endangerment. The family pictures without him and not enough seats around the telly speak of neglect more than physical abuse, but … this is all facts, what is your conclusion?"

"They may no longer bother to attack him directly, perhaps as he's getting big enough to fight back, but they've othered him in I think all the ways that matter to him, and they've cast him out in all the ways except for physically, and they're not letting him back in, except his aunt: as a slave and sometimes as a house decoration, his uncle: as a slave and lever that might someday make it to the top of wizarding society and remember the abuse, not as originating from them but from bad secrecy laws, and … his cousin is starting to see through it and wake up, but … seeing that the treatment is unjust is different from doing something about it. Except that the treatment is inherently othering, and seeing through it is almost to negate it."

"Hmm," said Dad, "What do you recommend?"

"While I was there he received a letter from the Weasleys inviting him over for shopping and then the quidditch world cup and then a ride to school. There was a row, not about the shopping or seeing the world cup, nor his maturity to be in that big a crowd, nor about the trustworthiness of the Weasleys to take care of him, but about him being away from home and chores that long. That is what provided the distraction that I used to make most of those other observations."

"Alright …?"

"And the distraction I used to invite Harry here and get him and his things out of the house before they could stop me."

"You kidnapped an orphan?"

"In gryffindor, we tend to use the work 'rescue'," said Hermione.

"That word may also be accurate."

Hermione shrugged, "When it's a slave, it's not kidnapping it's either stealing or rescuing."

"Where is he now?"

"The green servant's room across from the guest suite."

"Not the servant's room across from your suite?"

"Um," said Hermione, "I didn't think of that, also that is still full of books and clothes boxes, and anyway, he prefers an east facing window."

"Ah!" he glanced behind her. She felt for Crookshanks there, but Crookshanks was in a sun-shadow on the back porch.

"Young man, Hermione tells me she's put you in the green guest room, Is that in fact to your taste?"

"Yes, it is," said Harry, "and I'm not sure you get to say 'put' when she gave me a tour and let me choose."

Dad snorted and smiled, "True enough, glad you've landed somewhere that appeals to you."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, "is it really alright, me being here?"

"If you'd made only a bit more noise three weeks ago, you'd have been there already and not gone home with your Uncle."

A shudder passed through Harry, and he didn't seem to know what to say.

"Harry?" said Hermione.

He turned to her and his expression seemed to ask permission to … beg her father for something.

"Harry," said Dad, "You're welcome there for as long as you need, though I will start charging you rent after you've been out of school for two years."

"Oh," said Harry, "Thank you, sir."

No one seemed to know what to say. Finally dad said, "Have you unpacked yet?"

This time the shudder that passed through Harry seemed more electric and less of disgust.

"Not yet, sir."

"Dan, or Mr. Granger is fine."

"Alright," said Harry.

"Go unpack, 'make yourself at home,' as they say?"

Harry backed away.

"Tell us if you're missing anything and want us to pick it up at the shop."

"Oh," said Harry, and really relaxed.

After few deep breaths he scampered away.

Dad turned back to Hermione, "What else does he need?"

Hermione shrugged, "lots of things, but I think you just gave him the two things he needed most, a home and a request to be tested on your listening skills."

Dad's eyes bulged.

"He's told me several times that I'm a good person, but don't listen well enough."

"The eastern proverb that 'we listen each other into existence'?"

I have no idea what you're talking about, "Perhaps." Hermione shrugged.

Dad sighed, "alright, I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Anything else you want from me?"

"A big box of condoms?" she said.

He blinked, "First of all, I'll think about it, second of all, if it comes up sooner than that, I assume you know which nightstand in our room generally has them."

Hermione nodded.

"Where do things really stand on this?" said Dad.

Hermione shrugged, "it is in my head, and I think Nim knows it's in my head, I don't think Harry knows, or else he doesn't care."

"What do you mean, 'doesn't care' he's a teenager. How old is he?"

"He's thirteen, will turn fourteen the end of July," said Hermione.

"That's old enough to care," said Dad.

"It is, or would have been if he'd eaten regularly before Hogwarts, as it is, I think he's a little late, but perhaps not as late as I once feared."

"Oh!" he said, "Now what am I supposed to say?"

"What's the shelf life on condoms anyway?"

"Latex is a natural polymer, so: longer than most perishable food, but not as long as dried or canned food. This is what checking the expiration date is for."

"Right, but in general, can I stock up for the entire school year, or would it be better to only pack what I hope to use by say Christmas break?"

"So this is more of a long range plan, rather than a this evening plan?" said Dad.

"I wouldn't say 'no' to this evening," said Hermione, "But I don't think that's the kind of Stockholm he has."

"What kind of Stockholm does he have?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, "The first thing he did after we agreed which room he may put his trunk in, was offer to cook supper. Anyway, for all I know it will pass me over and latch onto you or Mom by the end of the day tomorrow. Stockholm generally targets the most powerful and the most nice authority figure available. Either way, I'd mostly rather let it run its course naturally than try to force it into a particular mould."

"Except that Stockholm might try to force him into any mould he detects you wanting him in."

Hermione shrugged.

"Communicating your preferences clearly might be better than letting him fumble about with previously learned behaviours that might no longer apply."

"Yeah."

"Does he have any dietary restrictions or preferences?"

"He likes one kind of sausage in preference to two others, but I don't know what any of them actually are, and bacon in preference to either of those, but that might just be about feeding scraps to Hedwig and Nim. He likes treacle tart in preference to most other desserts available at Hogwarts. Food in general he doesn't get talkative or excited about enough for me to pick out restrictions from preferences."

"Alright, something to ask him then."

They talked for a while longer, then Hermione went upstairs to let Harry know when supper would be.

.

Upstairs she found Harry bending over his trunk, evidently now emptied of clothes. Nim was on the windowsill watching him work.

"Ah," he said suddenly straightening and hopping up with a scrap of paper and took it out and applied it to the outside of the door.

She assumed it was the transfiguration project sign that they did in first year to affix on the floorboard of their beds. Except she knew for a fact that he'd redone his fairly early last term to read, "Harry and Nim," and anyway, bringing that home from Hogwarts would have been weird.

After she passed on her message, she was on her way out when she saw it. It wasn't a name plaque. It was just three runes at weird angles and connected strangely. "So what does it do?" she asked.

"It means roughly 'mine, mine. mine, mine.'" said Harry, "or maybe it means, 'Mine, mine, mine'". Hermione felt magic shift and swirl and looked back at him.

Nim stretched and her hair stood on end. Then she sat up at her most prissy, her hair lay down, and she purred.

"I think so too," said Harry.

"What just happened?" said Hermione.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know."

To her left her, with no visible cause, the door latched closed.

Hermione felt a flash of desire to make sure the door still opened because she didn't want to be trapped. But there were other ways to escape a second floor bedroom even if the door was under the influence of a half baked warding ritual.

But the feeling of being trapped passed and there was still a faint desire to be somewhere else. And it felt like it applied to the whole room.

It's my house and I invited him here. She thought in irritation, the desire to leave grew.

It's his room not mine, she thought, and the desire faded fractionally.

She thought, but I'm his friend and he hasn't asked me to leave, yet. The desire faded away almost completely.

"I'll be right back," she said.

"Huh?" said Harry.

"Checking how far your trespasser repelling ward extends," she said.

"My what?" said Harry.

She went out and let the door close itself behind her. She visited both neighbouring rooms, nothing that she could detect. She returned to Harry's room.

Or at least she tried, it took her two tries to even remember where to look for his door, and a little more concentration to not just walk past. Then she had it open and stepped inside. It still didn't like her being there. And just as she tensed to try to walk farther in, she could feel it tensing to push her out again.

"Harry," she said, "May I be in your room?"

"Yes," he said. The tension eased back to baseline.

She took a step forward and stopped again.

"For how long?" she said.

"For as long as you want," he said, "as often as you want."

Nim growled.

"Except when I specifically ask you to leave," he said, "Which will mostly be if you're interrupting my studies or my familiars' err communing time."

"Oh," she said.

"Is communing actually English?"

Nim grunted.

"Oh, alright," he said and turned his attention back to Hermione.

"I think," she said, "Your wards would like you to say why I'm welcome."

Harry blinked like she was stupid, then his eyes grew big and he looked around, "Because you're my friend," he said.

The tension vanished or … perhaps made her feel even more welcome. She smiled, "Thank you, Harry. You're my friend too."

"How extensive are 'my' wards?" said Harry.

"What I notice doesn't extend into nearby rooms, and tries to keep un-welcomed eyes off the door."

Harry relaxed, "That's alright then," he said. He returned to unpacking his books from his trunk into a neat row along the back of his dresser.

On his next trip Hermione backed out of his way, "Oh, sit down already," he said.

She wasn't sure if he waved toward the bed because his other bedroom's chair had been uncomfortable, or because of the geometry of which hand he had free to motion with, or some other reason.

But she had the feeling that Harry wanted her there, and Nim did not.

Weird, she'd always felt like Nim's ally until recently.

She was just about to ask when Harry handed her a book claiming to be about the animagus transformation, instead of his usual fare that just heavily implied it covered everything more basic than that and shaping.

.

By the time supper was called, he'd organised the rest of his books onto the dresser and his stationary into the desk/side table, his martial arts stuff into the closet, and her lap had two more books on it, and Harry and Nim were in the arm chair reading.

"Are these books gifts or lends or recommendations?" she said.

"What?" said Harry.

"Until I finish reading them," she said, "Do they belong in my room, or in your room in a, 'Hermione, read this' stack on whichever end of your dresser?"

"Oh," he said, "I'm still working through them too."

"A stack on your dresser then," she said, and put them on the corner nearest the bed, the other corner obviously already designated for his pocket cargo that didn't fit on the bed's side table.

They washed their hands and went to supper.

.

The topic over supper started out as their summer plans. Harry mentioned the upcoming trip with the Weasleys as desirable but perhaps a bit more time consuming than he wanted, but probably a good cultural experience. Also there were a lot of Weasleys and getting to know them NOT all at once required extended amounts of time.

Hermione seconded all that and reminded Harry that he'd promised Madam Bones to finish his law report.

That piqued her parents' interest but they assumed it was homework related, until they explained that, no, it was more like being a justice of the peace, only with a more aristocratic detective flavour.

The topic moved on to lab assessment of the meal, and how well it was cooked.

Nim grunted something. Hermione looked over.

Harry was tense.

Then he noticed her looking, and after a few seconds he mouthed, "is this normal?"

Hermione nodded.

His eyes went wide and he relaxed and just listened.

Several minutes later he said, "Tracy Davis."

"What about her?"

"When she partners potions with Daphne or Draco, they don't leave right after class, they stay and discuss how it went and what to do better, even how to change the recipe if some of the ingredients aren't good enough."

"Right," said Hermione.

Harry waved at her parents, then she could see it.

"Oh," she said, "I think it's just kind of normal for lab partner collaboration."

"Oh," he said, "I guess I should learn how to— wait … I am like this in Defence, and you are in Charms, sometimes in transfiguration."

"Huh," she said, "I suppose so."

He smiled and went back to eating.

A little later she'd finished, and her parents were still eating, and Harry had just sneaked thirds like it was a cardinal sin, and 'really, it was only seconds.' Except, it was totally thirds. At that rate he might finish fourths before he was presented with what passed for 'dessert' around here and lost his appetite.

She pulled out a book.

Harry gaped at her, then took in the work related conversation that was keeping her parents too busy to eat very fast, and nodded in approval and maybe envy.

.

Harry stopped eating and slid his chair over to read over her shoulder, their cats had a grunting match, which Nim won handily. So it was Crookshanks who had to roll over sulkily and look the other way.

When Hermione looked up again Mum was clearing plates away and offering a choice of 'ice cream or biscuits.'

Harry (not having been forewarned) asked for 'a little of each'. Hermione requested, 'just biscuits.' With every intention to pocket them for crumbling up later for the neighbour's koi.

She settled her focus back to her book, not that her eyes had ever left it, but then Dad said, "Harry, Just to clear something up for an old man, what are your intentions with my daughter?"

"I don't understand," said Harry.

"What do you think I mean?" said Dad.

"I don't have many intentions right now, except a few of my studies I'd like her insight or collaborations on. Generally it's Hermione who has the intentions, and me or Ron or both who collaborates, or doesn't. Oh, and I need to catch up on that legal paperwork."

"Ah," said Dad, "Let me ask a different question then, do you like Hermione?"

"I like her very much," said Harry.

"Do you think she likes you?" said Dad.

"Not really," said Harry, "She just … knows I won't bully her about reading all the time."

"Do you think she'd go out of her way to invite just anyone over?"

"Only someone she thought needed rescuing," said Harry.

Dad shook his head, "She invites people over sometimes, but not to stay overnight."

"Oh," said Harry. Not like he was reassured that she knew what to do with friends, but as if this was confirmation that he was replaceable, and all the more certainly a 'special case' for 'needing rescuing'.

So it was back into 'Hermione is a good person but doesn't listen well enough,' territory.

She almost went back to reading but then Harry started explaining how Ron acted out to get her attention, or argued with her, whereas that wasn't the kind of attention or collaboration Harry wanted or was comfortable with, what he tried was to do things for her, and generally she ignored him.

What in the world?

How did he normally succeed at gaining and monopolising her attention? Hugs and reading to her, asking for or offering help with spells or assignments. but how did he normally try to gain her attention? She wasn't sure she knew. He'd offered to cook supper… and then offered to brush her hair.

And how had she responded? By reading to him of course.

Had he interpreted that as ignoring him instead of as accepting … tribute? And offering payment in return.

Merlin's striped socks. Poor Harry.

There was one thing that he could offer her that she for sure wouldn't read through…

"Harry, If you really want to get my attention," said Hermione looking up.

"Huh?" said Harry looking at her.

"Come into my bedroom and take off your clothes."

"Buh?" said Harry, his eyeballs flickering around to verify that she'd just said that in front of her parents.

"Hmm," said Dad.

"Hermione!" said Mom.

Harry's face was turning red, maybe not at her for saying that, but at everything he'd considered saying in response.

"Just to be completely clear," said Dad, "what she just asked for is mildly illegal for her to ask of someone your age. And you can expect three square meals, every day, regardless of whether you perform or don't perform requests like that."

"That's not …" Harry sat up hard and turned to Dad, "Thank you for mentioning that sir," he turned back to Hermione, "Why your room and not my room?"

"Because I've seen that you know how to run away, when you feel like it, and have good instincts where to run to," she said, "I have yet to see evidence that you're capable of telling anyone (other than Malfoy and Parkinson) to go away."

"Oh," said Harry, "Alright," he looked very thoughtful. And accepted ice cream and biscuits from Mom.

Hermione went back to reading her book until the conversation had resumed well enough she could palm and pocket her biscuits unobtrusively.

...-...

The Lab Partners

Harry changed into sleeping clothes and went into Hermione's room, it seemed she was still downstairs working on dishes.

Her punishment for 'soliciting indecent exposure from a minor.' Hermione hadn't seemed in a hurry to tell them he wasn't a minor anymore, so he didn't either.

He wasn't going to undress the rest of the way without a more serious invitation. But he was going to be here waiting for her, give her a chance to say 'I'm really sorry' or 'I'm not nearly as sorry as I pretended in front of my parents'. He wandered around her suite familiarising himself with the layout, hopefully he'd be able to find his way out in the dark if he needed to leave.

Or, more to the point, to the bathroom if she wanted him to stay.

She had two bathrooms in her suite, one with a tub big enough for Nim to go diving in, and one with a shower.

This was a very strange house.

Hermione's suite was bigger than the downstairs of the Dursleys' house. But only three of the rooms had windows, and they didn't seem big enough… Had she magically expanded the rooms?

Finding nothing else to do, and not having permission to be here for any other reason, he settled on the corner of her bed, and pet Crookshanks.

And pondered what to say when she arrived.

.

"Oh, you are here," said Hermione.

Harry looked up, she'd been crying, but seemed to have stopped.

"Do I have your attention?" he said, "I can take off more clothes."

Her mouth smiled but her eyes looked like they were going to start crying again after all. "You have my attention," she said. She didn't say, 'don't take off your clothes.'

"Am I here to collaborate with you as your lab partner?" he said, "or am I here to play Stockholm victim, worshipping my benefactor."

"I want a lab partner," she said, "I just don't want Dad thinking you're the one corrupting me, if I'm the older one and the hornier one."

"Good," said Harry, "What I want is a lab partner too."

"You're not arguing with me about hornyness levels?"

"I might not be smart," said Harry, "But I'm wise enough to know better than to argue with you, Hermione."

"Oh," said Hermione, "Harry, you might be the smartest boy in our year, at least outside of ravenclaw."

Harry shrugged, "anyway, it was really obvious from the shifts in the dating geometries last year that the girls were into dating a bit earlier than the guys."

"What are you … talking about?"

"I overheard two of the prefects talking about girls maturing earlier, hence getting taller and then prettier."

"Sure."

"And then they talked about which girls were most into dating the most guys, probably trying to figure out which guys even had any idea what dating was about, because they had finally matured far enough to get it, so all the girls were racing to find the guys that did get it, whereas the prefects were just watching the geometries and the speed of shifts to predict which guys were mature enough to 'get it' and which girls had worked out a system of evaluating boys, and several other things that I think were using statistics in ways I don't yet understand."

"Intriguing," said Hermione, "Something to worry about later when there's a dating ecosystem to watch again."

"Yeah."

"In the mean time," she said, "are you mature enough, or horny enough, or whatever, for me to not worry about corrupting you?"

Harry smiled, "I'll tell you if I don't want to do something. Or more likely, if an experiment seems too risky for our current skill levels."

"You want to try everything, once, too?" said Hermione.

Harry grinned, "classic ravenclaw, right?"

"Um," said Hermione, "I hadn't thought about that, and I try not to give too much weight to house prejudice."

"Because you're half ravenclaw, and I'm almost un-place-able."

She stared at him, and muttered, "brave for sure, smart too, but hard working, persistent, pushy-friendly in the gryffindor way, follow-friendly in the hufflepuff way, collaborative with knowledge like a ravenclaw, and sneaky-alliance-friendly in the slytherin way…" Aloud she said,"But you weren't a hat-stall?"

Harry shrugged, "Malfoy had scared me off well enough, and you and Neville, and all Ron's brothers were already in gryffindor. I asked for gryffindor, and it didn't argue with me, much."

"Huh," she said, "hat-stalls that don't stall the hat is an even better reason to disregard a person's sorting."

Harry smiled.

"Alright, Mr. Almost un-place-able, what do you want?"

"What you said, but also something more slither-puff, Um, I don't just want to know what all the things feel like, I also want to know what you like and develop skill at giving it to you."

"Ah, right," she said, "that is a valid goal, but seems secondary." She frowned, "Not secondary in importance, but secondary, as in, a more advanced topic of study, and possibly one to put off until time for pair-bonding or whatever."

"Huh," said Harry, "I'm not sure … If I don't believe in pair bonding, or if I just have Nim and Lion active in my head too often recently to know what I believe."

"Or it's not time yet, and you'll believe in it when you find someone suitable?"

Harry shrugged, "That's what you believe, or that's what your otter instincts are telling you?"

She smiled, "kind of both I think, the otter instincts were already mine, or it wouldn't be my animal."

"Oh!" he said.

"What about you? What are lion instincts on the topic?"

Harry shrugged.

"What do you want? What do you want more when you try to feel with instinct instead of with human cultural norms?"

"Everything good is mine to protect," said Harry.

"Judgement, ownership, duty," said Hermione.

"What?" said Harry.

"I heard three key concepts: Some things are good and you notice that, you feel something about them, and you want to protect them."

"Yeah," said Harry.

"And ownership means something special to you," said Hermione, "I saw that when you put up mild privacy wards with either three or seven words."

"And a custom rune that is probably related to my animagus form," said Harry.

"Oh," said Hermione. She got lost in thought for a few seconds before finding her way back, "Am I good, Harry?"

"One of the best I know," said Harry.

Hermione snorted and looked away.

"You don't believe me?" said Harry.

"Not really," said Hermione, "most other people being idiots or unwise doesn't mean I measure up, just means I don't fail as spectacularly as some… but mostly just, not as often. And even more, mostly while practising in private instead of in class."

"On the one hand," said Harry, "Sure, our magic-raised classmates had an earlier grasp of what magic could accomplish, but I don't think they were much more prepared to accomplish any of it than we were, and now we've read ahead, and tried to look deeper into first principles than many of them bother with."

"True," said Hermione, "But that's just … examples from school. Goodness is about ethics."

"Agreed," said Harry, "But it also is dependent on sometimes reasoning from first principles, not going with the flow all the time."

"Exactly," said Hermione.

"And it also means acting on your conclusions," said Harry, "hence advantage to gryffindor."

Hermione snickered, but remained unconvinced.

"Hermione," said Harry.

"What?"

"Have you often noticed me singling you out for protection … err more protection than most everyone else?"

"Yes," she croaked, and finally met his eyes.

"And what does it mean that I want to protect you?" said Harry.

"You judge me 'good'?" she said.

He nodded, "one of the best I know."

She relaxed, then cocked her head to the side, "Who else am I in competition with?"

Harry's eyes widened, "so far, just my mom, I think."

"Oh," she said, "that's … wow, Harry."

"Please don't sacrifice yourself for me without my permission," said Harry, "Then I'd only have Nim and Hedwig and Ron left."

"In that order?"

"I think so," said Harry.

Nim's link flashed very smug. And then instantly she and Hedwig were having yet another row in the back of his head.

There was only one way to make it a fair fight, and get it out of his own head.

He grabbed Nim and dumped her through the link into Hedwig's mind, and then squished the door shut as tight as it could go on both of them.

"Alright," said Hermione, "without promising anything morbid, I'll try never to sacrifice myself when anything less permanent can achieve the same results."

"That's good enough," said Harry, "I suppose I don't actually want to limit your creativity, just … I need you to know that you don't have to compete with my mum about that."

"I hadn't even considered it," said Hermione.

"Now is your self worth high enough to enjoy whatever the next experiment was going to be?"

"Oh! You! That was never the question," she said, "But yes. Now … take off my clothes?"

"Oh, I guess that would be a good next lesson," agreed Harry, standing and going to her.

He figured his way through the different buttons and clasps and things, and folded or hung the things onto the wooden chair that seemed only to exist to hold clothes.

Then she undressed him. Until only his wand holster was left. She didn't remove it but she did look at it long enough to ask, "Why two in one holster, what's the second one anyway?"

"That's our decoy tutor's wand, in case you wanted … um do you know the contraceptive charm? I know it's supposed to be as easy as a cleaning charm, but not where to find it."

"Ah!" said Hermione, "good thinking, that saves a trip to Mom's room for condoms. Yes, I know it. It's in the appendix of the fourth year charms book. Just like the appendices of last year's potions book had the 'new chocolate flavoured' ache reliever and … err never mind."

"Oh, that," said Harry, "Fair enough, I haven't re-read the charms book yet, and I guess I should stop ignoring the appendices."

Hermione grinned, and got her own wand from the other room, and took it in front of Harry to show him the wand motion and the chant, "lasere ducatus."

"So … what does it do?"

"Do you want to know the arithmancy, or what it feels like to have cast on you?"

Harry shrugged, "I guess I meant, the second, and how does it work?"

"It conjures a lubricant with spermicidal and abortifacient properties, and … does it's best to place it where the wand point seems to indicate it is to be placed. Not like the water conjure, which just makes a stream and lets it flow as water flows. This searches for the edges of flesh, and coats it, um with an attention for orifices of vaguely the correct dimensions."

Harry contemplated that for a few seconds, then nodded, "that sounds like a step in the right direction, does it come with … err … reliability statistics?"

"Like condoms?" said Hermione, "think about how those statistics could be gathered. What do you predict."

Harry shrugged.

"As to what it feels like…" said Hermione, and shot him in the bum.

He froze and contemplated that for several seconds also, "That … would be difficult to confuse whether or not it had been successfully cast."

"Was that your real question," said Hermione, "whether I was sure enough in my casting to trust it?"

"Mostly," said Harry.

"Alright," said Hermione, "What's next? Are you going to learn it too, or get in bed and propose an experiment."

"I think I can learn that on my own," he said, and got on the bed. Hermione waved him off again and opened it most of the way, in the process displacing Crookshanks to the next room. She climbed on to the bed and sat cross legged.

He climbed on and mirrored her.

"The Granger-Potter science board is now in session," said Hermione, "I move we open the floor to experiment proposals."

Harry grinned, "I second the motion.'

"Hmm," said Hermione, "We seem to have an additional member in favour," she made a motion at Harry's crotch.

"So it seems," he agreed.

"May I?" she said. She obviously meant, 'may I touch,' or 'may I pet.' But…

"Anything you want," breathed Harry.

She flinched and looked up to meet his eyes, "Do you mean that?" she said.

"I'll tell you if you're hurting me," he said, "Better yet," he drew his wand, concentrated on just what he wanted, and then cast, "Crucio."

She blinked at him, and at the string of magic from his wand to her chest.

"That is not what I expected," she said.

"I don't think anyone ever expects the cruciatus cast with love."

"Was that a Spanish Inquisition reference?"

Harry shrugged, and put his wand away and did the mental juggling act to get the magic to continue from his left arm instead of his right hand. Then extended his left hand.

"Pinch me," he said.

"Why?"

"So you trust how fast this form of the curse will notify you if you do more than you intend."

She pinched his left hand, wiggled her left hand, then pinched harder, putting her fingernails into it.

Then she let go and nodded, "Now I see," she said.

"Good," he said, "Lesson one is play around and get comfortable with what exists, now that you don't need to worry that you're hurting me, or are or are not pleasing me, or at any particular efficiency."

"What's lesson two?"

"I don't know," said Harry, "I think I'm still in lesson one, but I think lesson one ends with a review about safety and prudence and skill levels and then we move on to vocabulary and how to negotiate respectfully for…"

"For specific experiment proposals," said Hermione.

"Yeah," said Harry.

"You're serious about … I may touch."

"I'm serious about that," said Harry, "for this evening: I'm your toy, play with me."

She reached over and touched, and rubbed, and squeezed.

They talked about hydraulic pressure of blood. They talked about itch being a form of pain and therefore a valid subject for transmitting over the cruciatus, but that relief from itch wasn't pain and didn't communicate, not quite, and there were lots of other sensations in sex, itch and relief was only one, though it seemed either the most foundational, or just the easiest one to compare to other more everyday sensations.

"I … want to hug you, and …" said Hermione.

"Sitting lotus around each other is supposed to be a not-uncommon sex position, I'm unclear on its supposed difficulty level, but between martial arts and Quidditch, I'm confident we can figure it out."

"You don't have to be so damn clinical," said Hermione.

"Wow, Did you just curse?" said Harry.

"I just quoted my Dad, actually."

"Oh," said Harry, "Get in my lap already, so I can get in yours."

"Certainly," said Hermione. And she fairly pounced on him.

Oh, maybe she likes being told what to do, after all.

So be the authoritative teacher, when she does want lessons, and the collaborating friend when she wants to play at her own pace.

I guess.

She didn't know what she was doing and was clumsy about it and in a hurry. But Harry compensated, and they were fine.

Harry finished right away. Though it didn't feel like glory and fireworks, just like, the way things went.

But oddly he also didn't feel like stopping.

Nim, what was that?

One of several styles of being early, I'd say you were generous and to give her enough lubricant, but I don't think that was a worry with the charm she used. Just try to stay big enough for her to play with, and remember which parts of her are most likely to be sensitive, and in which order.

Right.

Harry hugged her tight around the small of her back and the gap in her shoulder blades, so that her boobs and other parts would rub against him at the same time as she was rubbing what she thought she was supposed to be rubbing. She seemed to understand the difference, or just liked hugging and hugged back.

"I realise," she said after a while, "that I don't really know what I'm trying to do."

"Oh, hmm," said Harry and let go. He drew his wand and ended the previous spell.

"I think what you're aiming for should feel something like this, Crucio." He held the spell for the duration of his meditation through a memory of one of Bella's orgasms.

"Oh, wow, alright," she said.

"And if all goes well, what I'm hoping to experience usually goes something like this, crucio."

She choked or coughed or something, and then glared at him, "well that hardly seems fair."

Harry shrugged, "and, I'm under the impression that guys who can concentrate through all that, or meditate well enough to put it off can experience the first. And women can also experience their own version of the second, though I don't know much about the details, and …"

"Ah," she said, "Hmm."

"And mostly," said Harry, "there's a big difference between being able to induce either one in oneself or in another, and being willing to just play around often enough and long enough to get something to happen and be content with whatever that happens to be."

"Well, I suppose," she said, "And start with exploring to learn the lay of the land, before trying to get anywhere in particular?"

"I think so, yes," said Harry.

She relaxed a lot, and then threw herself into rubbing herself against him with renewed vigour.

.

When she'd tired herself out, after two things which she said might be orgasms. She asked to just hold on, and for Harry to move her. So he did, until he'd had a dry orgasm, and she'd had another orgasm, and he'd had an ejaculation that felt like it should, which also demanded he take a proper break.

He slumped back, and they both lay down sideways to get their legs untangled. Then she pushed him over onto his back, and curled up with her head on his chest.

"Good," she said.

"Is my lady satisfied?" said Harry.

Nim grunted irritation in the background.

"Yes," said Hermione, "That was sufficient for tonight."

They both lay still and tried to catch their breaths.

Crookshanks jumped on the bed and curled up behind her knees.

"Good evening, Crooks," said Hermione.

"May Nim and Hedwig join us?"

"If they want to cuddle too, yes, but they'd better find their own way," said Hermione, "I'm not letting you go of you for a while."

So much for, 'I trust you to run away if you want.'

"Nim can get them here," said Harry.

"If you say so," said Hermione, and yawned.

...-...

{End Chapter 3}

And thanks for all the reviews.

Note that 2 chapters that have been updated to reflect what I actually thought they contained, or to include information that was previously contained in scenes that were cut: 3-6: Break In & 3-9: Patronus.