Early morning greeted the Richardson farm house with hints of gilded purple and gray. Dew hung heavy in the air and clung in crystal droplets to the grass. Hermione Granger stepped out the front door and took in a deep breath. A smile touched her lips. Behind her, his feet dragging and his mouth gaping in a yawn, followed Harry. He rubbed at his eye underneath his glasses then ruffled a hand through his hair. Kimmy, in dog form, trotted out after them and took off, no doubt to survey the property and stake out any possible danger.

Harry came to a stop beside Hermione and grumbled, "Why'd we have to get up so early for this, again?"

Hermione turned to look at him and frowned. Not in disapproval, but disappointment. "For this," she pointed toward the meadowland that surrounded the house. Empty pastures with unnecessary fences marked where once the land had been home to several horses. Now they were empty plots of pasture with knee-high, sweet-smelling green grass. In one direction was the road, sparsely traveled at this hour, and in the other the pastureland rolled out into a tree-line, the edges of a miniature forest. The early morning fog blanketed the ground, cast a mist that left the trees not so far away in shades of gray and added hazy miles so that they seemed impossibly far away.

Harry didn't see what was so impressive about it, kind of pretty but not early-rising-worthy pretty, but when he glanced over at Hermione he accepted the only truth that mattered… it was impressive to Hermione. She was gazing out at the mist-laden grounds with a faint smile on her face. When she realized Harry was watching her she blushed. "When my mum and dad told me I was a witch, before I'd started at Hogwarts, I read about magic. I wanted to learn about myself, the part of me my parents couldn't teach me. In muggle literature, magic's almost entirely confined to Merlin and the age of courts and knights. I…" Hermione blushed even more fiercely, "I sort of romanticized it, I suppose. Before I knew what magic and wizards today are like, I used to imagine living in Merlin's era, and when I came to Gram's I'd get up really early and take Tiggy and head toward the woods, and I pretended I was heading through the mist to Avalon." Hermione turned her head aside to hide her embarrassment. "It's stupid, I know."

"No," Harry said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle even to his own ears. She looked warily at him, her face down-turned and eyes lifted to watch him. Harry felt sleep vanish and leave in its wake that damnable stomach flutter. He swallowed. "It's not stupid." Harry glanced up again at the foggy earth and realized that it was pretty. And behind those trees… well, from here it seemed there was no limit to the secrets they might hold. Maybe Merlin would be there. He glanced back at Hermione and smiled. "Thank you for showing me."

Hermione smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Come on, we'll get Tiggy and I'll show you the cove."

Harry eagerly followed Hermione.

She led them to a small barn with a fenced pen. At their approach a horse stuck its head out from around the building and pricked its ears forward curiously.

"Tig, Tig, Tiggy," Hermione called and started to climb the fence.

The horse snorted then came out from behind the barn and walked toward the girl. Harry came to a stop at the fence and hung back, content to watch. The chestnut horse's only marking was a stripe down its face. Harry had far more experience with hippogriffs, and for a moment a horse's head on an equine body seemed abnormal.

Hermione and the horse reached one another and Hermione patted the animal's head and kissed it on the nose. She turned as she tangled her fingers in the animal's mane. "This is Antigone. She was my grandfather's calm, Gram always said. Tiggy was the most laid back, sweetest horse Gramp ever had. He used her a lot to keep higher strung horses calm. She had a sedating influence."

Tiggy snorted and her head drooped lazily. Hermione patted her neck. "When she was young, Tiggy used to be a competitive jumper. Never had the competitive spirit for it, sad to say she never won a single competition, but she won my gramp. Mum told me once she saw a lot of horses go through Agincourt but Tiggy was always here."

"Agincourt?"

Hermione smirked. "Oh… back when Gramp was training horses full time that's what the farm was called." Hermione shrugged. "Gramp loved Shakespeare."

"So that's where it comes from," Harry said with a smile.

Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around Tiggy's neck to give her a hug. The mare stood quietly, half-asleep.

"Come on in and say hi," Hermione bade Harry as she stepped toward the barn, "I'll fetch the bridle and we can head out."

Harry climbed over the fence and approached the horse. Tiggy flicked one ear forward to listen but otherwise did not stir. Harry came to a stop a few paces away from Tiggy and almost bowed. 'Not a hippogriff' he reminded himself and instead put his hands in his pockets and considered the dozing animal. "Um… hi, Antigone."

The mare took her weight off one of her back legs and crooked it, her entire hindquarters skewing as she closed her eyes.

Hermione came back with a bridle looped over her shoulder. Tiggy heard the jingle of the bit and her head came up, her ears shot forward, and her eyes opened alertly. She stood flat on all four legs and turned her head toward Hermione.

"That's a good girl, Tiggy," Hermione said as she slipped the bit between the horse's teeth and slid the leather over her ears. She fastened the throat latch strap and stepped toward the mare's withers and pulled a brush from her back pocket and began to brush the place where the rider would sit. Tiggy mouthed the bit and shifted on her feet.

"Stand still, Tiggy, Harry, could you hold her?"

Harry stepped closer and gathered up the dangling reins. Tiggy seemed to pay attention to him for the first time and nipped at his fingers. Hermione brushed both sides of Tiggy's barrel and back then pushed her hair back from her face. "There, that should do. I'll give her a proper rub-down once we get back."

"Who will I ride?" Harry asked and looked around the pen for another horse.

"We'll have to double up on Tiggy. When Gramp died Gram sold all the horses at the Court. She would have sold Tiggy, too, Gram was never one much for horses, but she said Gramp would roll over in his grave if he knew Tiggy was sold off. She's the only one left. It'll be okay, though, Tiggy's well-behaved; she won't fret at having us both on her. But here, best take her to the fence so we can mount more easily." Harry relinquished the reins and stepped out of the way while Hermione led the mare over to the fence.

When Harry caught up with Hermione at the fence she was standing very still, eyes glossy and her fingers tangled in the mare's mane. "Hermione?"

Hermione blinked, looked at Harry, at Antigone, then said, "Hold on just a moment," then scrambled over the fence and ran toward the house. Harry, baffled, stood dumbly beside the horse while Tiggy eyed him, as though sizing him up and trying to decide how much he'd weigh when he got on her.

Hermione came hurrying back from the house with a pair of scissors in her hand. She climbed back over the fence, came around to Tiggy's side, and cut off a small lock of the mare's golden brown mane. Hermione stuck the scissors through her side belt loop and studied the section of coarse horse hair between her fingers. She dug into her pocket and withdrew her crumble marble bag. Without a word she stuffed the horse hair inside and stuffed the bag back into the depths of her pocket.

Harry didn't have to ask. It seemed the token process of becoming an animagus was most difficult on that first token. Once they knew what it felt like, and how they were to get there, it became much easier. They were learning to trust their feelings when a token presented itself. They were becoming more skilled at reaching the necessary meditative state to open themselves to noticing tokens around them. And because they were both aware of the nature of tokens, and the importance of abandoning human initiative and pride when hunting them, it was not strange for one or the other of them to drop what they were doing to go after a leaf or stick or pebble. They were wise enough not to attempt a token of their own just because the other did.

Hermione threw the reins over Tiggy's neck and wedged herself between the mare and fence. With a quick climb she was able to throw one leg over the horse's back and position herself behind Tiggy's withers. She gathered up the reins and stilled Tiggy. "Come on, Harry."

Harry relented and uncertainly squeezed himself between the fence and the horse. As Hermione had done, he climbed half-way up the fence then turned to consider the horse's bare back, Hermione's legs draped on either side, Hermione herself half-turned to await him. He extended one leg over the far side of the horse's broad back then fell into place behind Hermione.

"Comfortable?" she asked cheerfully.

"Sure."

Hermione clucked her tongue and urged Tiggy forward with a gentle hug of her calves. The mare snorted and started forward. At the pen gate Hermione unlatched and opened it from horseback then maneuvered Tiggy through.

"This was always my favorite part of visiting Gram and Gramp's," Hermione said aloud, clearly enjoying herself.

"Uh huh," Harry muttered as his body swayed with the motion of the horse. "So, if you knew how to ride before, why didn't you like Buckbeak? I just assumed you were frightened being on him."

Hermione snorted. "Because of the flying. And he wasn't a horse, so it's different. And he was pretty much feral, I don't care what Hagrid says, no telling what he'd do. I trust Tiggy."

It was Hermione-logic and Harry knew better than to argue with it. "Oh. Well, then, on to Avalon."

Hermione laughed, a light, care-free, wonderful laugh, and Harry's heart lodged in his throat. Hermione pointed them in the direction of the trees and set Tiggy to an unrushed walk.

There was an occasional flash of tan in the green grass as Kimmy darted about, close enough to rush in if danger presented. She didn't stay steady at their side, fading into the fog and slipping into the grass taller than she, but it seemed there was no threat from Death Eaters here. Tiggy plodded through the grass toward the trees that had seemed an adventure away. Occasionally she turned her head to the side to nip at long bits of grass within reach for a quick snack. The sun was still making a weak showing, barely laying a film of light over the layers of fog that hovered in their path.

Hermione barely seemed to guide the mare; it was as though Tiggy knew this trek as well as Hermione did. She sat astride her childhood mount and seemed completely at ease.

They were coming up on the woods that had teased from afar. Then they passed the tree line. They were weaving between trees, meandering through the early-morning forest.

"We're nearly there," Hermione promised. "The cove's just up ahead.' She urged Tiggy onward.

Harry, still sleepy from their early start, stared at Hermione's bushy hair and didn't even notice where they were until Hermione had the horse at a stop and turned her profile to him. "This is it."

"What?"

"The cove."

Harry looked around. It was a pond. Not even that, barely bigger than the prefect's bath. It was ringed by trees and patches of grass. It might have been lovely but Harry was stuck in the twilight zone.

Hermione crossed one of her legs over Tiggy's neck and dropped down to the ground. Harry glanced down at her but Hermione seemed not to notice as she gazed about at her childhood retreat. "I remember it being bigger than this."

Harry dismounted and dropped to the ground beside her. Finally Hermione looked at him. "Of course, I used to bring books here and read for hours. Sometimes I read about Merlin and Camelot, but really it was just anything. I liked being alone out here with just Tiggy for company. I could be anything here.

"I've never shown this to anyone, not even Gram or Mum. They must know it's here, but I like to pretend I'm the only one who knows about it. My own Avalon."

Hermione stepped away from Harry and he watched after her as she tied Tiggy to a low-hanging branch enough that she could reach the grass to graze. Hermione turned, lifted her chin to the morning air, and closed her eyes. And she smiled that enchanted, wondrous smile from earlier that morning.

Harry's gut clenched.

Hermione moved to the water's edge and toed at a stone.

Harry walked over to the base of a tree, a carpet of soft fresh grass beneath it, and sat down. He laid down flat on his back, removed his glasses with one hand, and threw his other arm over his eyes to enjoy the quiet of the cove.

He could hear Tiggy tearing grass with her teeth and the softer sounds of Hermione moving around… then he startled when he heard her drop down beside him. Harry moved his arm just enough to look at Hermione over the crook of his elbow. She was sitting close beside him.

Harry took his arm away from his face, let it rest on the ground over his head, and fixed his unfocused eyes on the canopy. "Hermione…"

She turned her head to look at him, expression so peaceful and content it was quickly the best part of Avalon as far as Harry was concerned.

"This is really great. Thank you for bringing me here, Mione."

Hermione's expression softened and she looked back at him with a beguiled smile.

"What?" he asked, confused by the shift.

The corners of Hermione's mouth curved up further in a small, private smile. It made Harry's hair stand on end. "You just called me 'Mione'."

"Oh…"

"I like it," Hermione said shyly.

Harry smiled, despite himself. "I'll remember that."

Hermione shifted closer to him and Harry held his breath. But the world didn't explode and Tiggy kept on chomping away busily at the grass a short distance away. Dawn slowly seeped into the cove, Hermione's Avalon, and Harry began to appreciate why Hermione would love this spot so much. It was a world away from both worlds they'd tried to fit into. He could stop trying to be anything here, the Boy Who Lived or the freak of Privet Drive. He was the place between the tree and between the water, the being atop the grass, and under the leaves, the creature that lounged with another at his side… another with lustrous, wild brown hair that fluttered in the breeze, that danced around her face, ticked his skin, teased his senses, called to his fingers. Called to him.

Harry turned to Hermione, her hair loose and free, and blinked.

Hermione looked at him. "What?"

Harry considered her a moment, then leaned in. Hermione gasped and held still as he moved toward her. Harry reached across her, slipped the scissors from her belt loop, and sat back. Hermione looked down at them in confusion then up into his eyes.

Harry brought up his free hand and caught a segment of her eternally untamed hair. He glanced at her hesitantly. "May I?"

Hermione's eyes widened when she understood. She nodded.

Harry cut off a lock of hair and came away with his token. He studied the brown-gold collection of hairs, rolled them between his fingers in wonder at the softness, the Hermioneness in their magic, the magic imprint singing true of his best friend, then he fished his own marble bag from his pocket. He added his newest prize and looked again at Hermione. She seemed astounded, strangely honored, to have been chosen. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair as though to find where he'd taken from her.

Harry handed her back the scissors and she wordlessly accepted them. Then the moment was gone and it was almost as though it had not happened.

"We should come back, if you truly like it here," Hermione said lowly.

"I'd like that."

Hermione smiled at him again, that wondrous smile, half shy, half bold, and Harry figured if Avalon made Hermione glow like that it was worth the early morning wake-up calls.

❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾

By the end of their two week stay at Roberta Richardson's home, Harry had a short-list of things he was not going to miss. And as much as he liked Hermione's grandmother, she was number one on it. From all the questions she asked him, questions that had no answer, she had to think he was a mumbling idiot physically incapable of normal speech. She was kind enough, had a real zinger of a sense of humor, but gods was the woman good at asking horribly uncomfortable odd-ball questions. Why would she ask him what he thought was the proper amount of time to date a girl before kissing her? She was the wise, experienced older lady, shouldn't she have her own answer to that? Why ask an almost fifteen-year-old boy who'd never dated in his life? And what did he think was Hermione's most difficult to tolerate pet peeve? Like he was going to tell her that with Hermione sitting right there! Did that mean he thought she was perfect? Well, no, who's perfect? There were a few trigger words: 'wedding', 'marriage', 'baby', and 'fiancé' that sent Harry running. Sometimes just out the room, sometimes out of the house entirely. And he tried to tell himself she was a lonely widow who merely missed her dead husband, that she'd dwell on such things remembering her dear lost spouse, but still! He was not going to miss that.

But he would miss Avalon. Every morning he and Hermione would get up early when the sun was still on the cusp of the horizon, climb up on Antigone, and set off for the misty woods.

It was their last morning in the cove. Miranda was coming to pick them up around noon, so they couldn't stay long.

Tiggy was tied across the water, grazing as always. Kimmy was nowhere to be seen, but at Berti's she'd made a unique habit of being there without being seen. Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him, the heavy black spells book open in her lap. Harry hadn't even known she'd brought it until he saw her with it that morning… she'd kept it that well hidden lest Berti find it. She was reading quietly and Harry was reclined back against a tree trunk.

Yes… Harry would miss this.

Hermione looked up from her book, turned to him, "Harry… you've tokened well over ten, right?"

Harry thought a moment. "Thirteen so far, why?"

Hermione pivoted on the grass to more directly face him. "Soon as we get back to Hogwarts I think we can start the next phase of the animagus transformation."

"Which is what?"

"A potion to bind the token magic to the witch or wizard. I discussed it with Kimmy last night, and it seems well the easiest part of the process. According to Kimmy, the individual magic of each object is only sporadically connected to the greater magical energy in nature… the way the tokens jump out at us in flashes and we don't feel them all the time. We'll need to bind them together and to us. We won't be able to try the actual spell for the first transformation until the first full moon one we're back anyway, so that will give us time to brew the potion."

"Why a full moon? We're not turning into werewolves."

"No, but the lunar cycle has a very powerful influence on animals. Our inner animals will be more easily awakened under a full moon."