Hermione was sitting on the couch between her father and Kimmy watching the spectacle before them and doing a poor job of hiding her smile. Jake was looking up from a wizard's book on Quidditch, complete with moving pictures, Kimmy was dressed in a pair of jungle-camouflage boxer shorts and swinging her feet from side to side on the cushion. Crookshanks was curled in the armchair, sleeping and oblivious to the scene playing out before him. Hedwig, transformed back to her snowy white self and in a much better mood for it, was perched on the back of the chair and preening her feathers.

In the center of the living room, Miranda was squaring off with Harry… and she was winning.

"But I really don't think that's necessary, Missus Granger," Harry pleaded.

Miranda shook her head. "Harry, I can see your socks."

Harry glanced down toward his feet where the hem of his jeans just barely touched the top of the sides of his trainers. When he moved his leg, there was a flash of white from the sock underneath. He frowned and looked toward Hermione for some help. Hermione just smiled and sat back.

"Face it, dear, you need new clothes," Miranda said. "You can't very well go back to school tomorrow without any clothes that fit. I'll just not have it."

"Dudley's old clothes will still fit."

Miranda looked affronted.

Jake chuckled. "Son, just concede defeat. It'll be the better for you to surrender now."

Harry looked over at Jake (for a split second he looked shocked), looked back to Miranda, then his shoulders sagged.

Miranda, seeing she'd broken him, patted him on the shoulder. "There's a good boy. We'll go out today and get you some new clothes."

"But we just did that at the first of summer," Harry mumbled.

"Yes, but as you saw fit to grow in leaps and bounds you'll just have to do it again. How you could grow so much in a single summer boggles me."

Jake snorted. "They say you do the most growing when you sleep," he glanced over at Harry, "the way this boy's slept the summer away we should count ourselves fortunate that he's not seven feet tall by now."

"Oh, you leave him alone," Miranda shushed her husband.

"Eating like a horse probably had a fair bit to do with it, too," Jake retorted.

Harry glanced at Hermione, his smile and hers faltered momentarily, then Harry sighed. "I haven't grown thatmuch."

"Well, you really have, Harry," Hermione jumped up from the couch and stepped up to stand toe to toe with him. She had to look up to meet his eyes. He was almost a head taller. Harry looked startled by the contrast. "Well, yes, but I'm wearing…" he looked down to comment on his shoes… only to see Hermione was wearing shoes, too. He stopped and frowned, for a moment genuinely baffled.

Hermione chuckled. "Well, it won't be enough to catch you up with Ron, but definitely a growth spurt."

"Huh." Harry looked over at Miranda. "All right, Missus Granger, I yield."

"Wise boy," Jake remarked from the couch.

"You two already went to that wizard market and saw to your school supplies, right?" Miranda asked. Harry and Hermione had gone to Diagon Alley on their own (with Kimmy as escort, of course) one day last week to get the books for their next term while Miranda and Jake were at work. Miranda hadn't liked the idea of them going off alone, but Hermione had been persistent. Jake seemed to think they were well old enough to go by themselves. It had been her husband as a champion in their corner that finally made Miranda give in and allow it. One morning the four of them left the house earlier than usual, and before work Miranda and Jake dropped Harry, Hermione, and dog-form Kimmy off at the train station. They didn't pick the trio up until Jake and Miranda were on their way home that evening. The two teens had come to the car package-laden and laughing from their day-long outing. Predictably, Hermione was chattering up a storm about their upcoming year of school. Miranda felt the beginning of term coming with a heavy heart. She knew Hermione loved Hogwarts very dearly, but it was hard to see her daughter leave every term, knowing she'd be gone for months. In the past they could at least count on Christmas as a break in the long absence… but after this last year Miranda was no longer so sure Christmas could be guaranteed. Miranda had a plan for that already in the works. Since this last Christmas Hermione had stayed at school because of Harry, Miranda would just invite Harry to stay with them next Christmas. But that was half a term away. For now, there was still the start of term to worry about.

"Yes, Mum," Hermione answered, "and we had to get new robes, the both of us. Our old ones didn't fit."

Miranda shook her head. "Weeds, the both of you. Growing like weeds."

"This book is great, Harry," Jake said as he flipped a page, "thank you for picking this up for me."

"Oh, it's no trouble. I know my stick figures weren't really doing much of a job of explaining Quidditch, and since Hermione had us dallying in the bookstore for three hours…"

Hermione blushed and looked down.

Jake laughed. "Oh, that's our Hermione. To my benefit. It looks like an absolutely fascinating game. And you play this 'seeker' position?"

Harry nodded.

"From this book, looks like quite a tough spot to play."

Hermione grinned. "Oh, it's the most challenging Quidditch position on the whole team. A seeker has to be the fastest, with the best reflexes, and has to be fearless. Some of the maneuvers I've seen Harry pull off chasing that infernal golden ball…"

Jake looked to Harry with a smirk and winked at him. "And Hermione says she doesn't know a thing about Quidditch."

"Hermione knows something about everything; if she says she doesn't know anything then she's plain lying," Harry answered and Hermione harrumphed.

"You'd outgrown your school robes?" Miranda asked, still fixated on her original topic, and looked closely at Hermione, "maybe you should come along too and get some new clothes as well."

Harry laughed, as if turn-about was fair play.

Hermione shrugged, not nearly as agonized by the prospect of shopping for clothes as Harry. "All right, then. And I can help you pick out stuff for Harry!" she beamed at him.

Jake slammed the book shut (inside came the squawk of startled Quidditch players), "Don't, Harry. By all things decent and holy, don't. Never let your girl pick your clothes, wars have been fought over less."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Honestly."

"Don't be daft, Dad, and besides, Harry won't mind a little advice, would you?"

Harry looked between Hermione, Miranda, and Jake, all three watching him, then answered, "Well, I…" he glanced at Hermione and seemed to weigh his final decision on her face, "Hermione's advice has yet to steer me wrong." In fact, more times than not it had saved his life. Seemed a small thing to trust her to suggest shirts.

Hermione smiled brightly. Jake, despite his dire warning, looked oddly pleased with Harry's answer, as though he had unknowingly been tested.

"It's settled, then. We're off, Jake, come along, you two," Miranda gestured them toward the front door. As Harry was passing the armchair, Crookshanks leapt up on the back beside Hedwig and meowed at him. Harry scratched the cat behind the ears with a faint chuckle. "I remember; I'll bring you some ice cream this time."

When they were gone and Jake was alone in the house he shook his head, sighed, and opened the Quidditch book once more.

❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾

That night, Harry lay in bed and stared up at the dark ceiling, fingers interlaced behind his head. He couldn't sleep. Tomorrow they'd wake early and head to King's Cross to board the Hogwarts Express for their return to Hogwarts. Kimmy wouldn't be going to the train station with them; she would see them off at the house then retire to her closet abode to dispense with her quarters and return to Hogwarts via her floo into the headmaster's office. Hedwig was secure in her cage on the dresser, a little dour at being unable to fly (unavoidable since they'd changed her back to white), but soon enough she'd be back at the owlery of Hogwarts and completely free to fly. She seemed to understand that and gave only a few doleful hoots before falling silent. Harry's things were packed, his trunk at the foot of his bed containing all of his possessions, including the new clothes he'd bought earlier that day. He had a set of muggle attire out for the morning trek to King's Cross, and his new school robes were on the top of the pile in his packed trunk so it would be easy to fetch them when they all changed on the train. He was ready to go.

Usually the return to Hogwarts was the most eagerly anticipated day of his summer. This year… he wasn't so sure. Normally his summers were so atrocious that the beginning of school was a manner of salvation. This summer had been different. The Grangers had welcomed him to their home and unknowingly given him the best summer of his life. It would be bittersweet to say goodbye to that.

And to what would he return? Possibly Voldemort. Maybe his death. Maybe the death of those he cared about. For once, he didn't want to go back. He wanted to disappear, to be invisible to the world. He wanted to be in Avalon with Hermione.

His door creaked open and a familiar, tentative whisper issued forth into the night's silence. "Harry?"

Harry looked toward the door, his vision blurry since his glasses were on the nightstand beside him, but he didn't need to see to know his visitor. "Yeah?"

Hermione slipped into his room, shut the door, and padded over to his bed in flannel pajamas. "Good, you're awake." She sat down on the edge of the bed beside Harry. He didn't bother to move over… it forced her to touch his side, and he rather liked it. "It's so hard to sleep before the first day back to school," she whispered excitedly, "it's the like the night before Christmas."

"If you say so," Harry mumbled. His Christmases had been of two varieties, locked in his cupboard so he wouldn't ruin Dudley's Christmas morning, or one of only a few homeless, orphan Hogwarts students who had no place to go.

Hermione looked down at him and he instantly wished he hadn't said anything. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he turned his head to face her. "I can't sleep either."

Hermione stared upward, "I've been thinking..."

"Wow, what a shock."

Hermione swatted his arm. Harry chuckled. Hermione shook her head, and he could sense that she had a smile on her face, though he couldn't see it.

"About what?" he asked.

"Our 'project'." Hermione was wired with excitement, it read in the mere tone of her voice. "It just hit me, we might actually be able to do it. We've done the really hard part of it, the part most witches and wizards can't manage. I'm just so nervous… but so thrilled. I can't wait for the first full moon."

"I've been thinking, too."

Hermione turned in his direction. "About?"

"Avalon, actually. I was kind of thinking it would be really nice to never have to leave there, never have anybody know where we were… just disappear."

Hermione went still. Finally, she ventured lowly, "Voldemort."

"Yeah."

Hermione sighed. "I've been trying not to think about that, but seems I can't help it."

"Me neither."

Hermione didn't speak, but Harry could still tell she was tense. He could almost hear her uneasiness in her breathing, and he could picture her face so well that he imagined her expression and would lay gold on his being right.

He scooted over on his bed and beckoned gently, "Come here, Mione."

Hermione wordlessly lay down on the bed beside him and turned on her side. Harry sidled up behind her and rested his head on the pillow next to hers, nearly lost in her wild hair. By now he was used to that stomach flutter and heart patter that jolted through him. Hermione gave a breathy exhale. "It won't be the same," Hermione said faintly. "When we go back."

"No, it won't." Harry let the night swallow them a second before he said, "But whatever happens, I want you to know this has been the best summer of my life."

Hermione caught her breath. "Really?"

"Yeah." Harry closed his eyes and breathed in… the scent of Hermione's hair was thick in his nostrils.

Hermione sighed in the darkness. "I'm glad you came home with me."

"Me too. I got to see what it's supposed to be like."

"What what's supposed to be like?" Hermione asked over her shoulder, barely rolling in his direction to try and look at him.

"A family," Harry replied gruffly. He cleared his throat. "I think this is what my mum and dad would have been like. I can't see them being like the Weasleys. Don't get me wrong, I really like the Weasleys, but I don't think that's what my parents would have been like. I think they would have been like yours. Or I like to think." Before he could think on what he was doing, Harry draped his arm over Hermione's waist.

He didn't know how she might react to that, but when she snuggled back against him it was not wholly unexpected. Somehow, it filled a hollow in him. They lay quietly together, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione didn't show any signs of leaving, and while Harry would have been fine with that, it was he who eventually said, "You probably ought to go back to your room."

"Why?" she said in a sleepy voice.

"Because I don't want your dad to catch us like this."

Hermione paused, and she seemed a little perplexed. "What about my mum?"

Harry frowned. "I like the idea of your dad catching us less."

"How come?"

"Not sure. Just the same, I don't want to find out why."

Hermione sighed. "You're probably right."

Harry couldn't help the involuntary squeeze he gave Hermione's middle before he let her go. Hermione moved off his bed and headed toward the door. "See you in the morning, Harry." She slipped out of his bedroom as silently as she'd entered, and Harry rolled over on his other side. The memory of her stealing away from his bedroom in the middle of the night brought a small smile to Harry's lips.