Harry was starting to feel decidedly leery. In fact, the feeling was very much akin to one he'd experienced often in Potions class when he knew he'd added in the ingredients incorrectly and was just waiting for the cauldron to explode.

He, Ron, and Hermione had been in Dumbledore's office learning the basic premises behind wandless magic for well over an hour, and the headmaster had yet to breathe a single word about his and Hermione's little escapade in Hogsmeade yesterday. He hardly believed the headmaster was going to ignore it, not when he'd made it such a clear command on Friday that he was to stay well within sight of the professors. A command he and Hermione had flagrantly and knowingly disregarded.

If Hermione was troubled by the white elephant in the room, she didn't show it. She was sitting next to Harry on the bench that Dumbledore had conjured for the three of them when they first arrived, and she had her notebook open on her lap. Her quill was scribbling furiously over the pages. Every time Harry glanced over at her he couldn't stop a smile from tugging at his mouth. It was so very Hermione of her, right down to the crinkle in her brow and the way she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she took down nearly every word Dumbledore said. If there were any misgivings there, she had them firmly buried beneath the mantle of model pupil.

As he watched her take down all the details of Dumbledore's lesson, it occurred to Harry that he'd need to borrow them from her after they left. He'd become so expectant of the scolding they would receive that he'd not been paying the utmost of attention to the headmaster.

Though from what he had heard, he doubted pouring over Hermione's meticulous notes would do much good. Wandless magic was perhaps the most wily, unpredictable, uncooperative magical ability he'd ever heard of. For all intents and purposes, it sounded like Hermione had been right (though that was far from shocking). Wandless magic seemed to be purely innate. Even Harry, paying only sporadic attention, heard Dumbledore several times comment on the fact that it could not be learned. If one had the raw potential it could be honed and refined, but if the capability wasn't already there one might as well hope to spontaneously turn into a minotaur (and from the sound of things, the latter seemed more likely to happen).

Ron, on Harry's right, was concentrating so intently on Dumbledore that his face was screwed and Harry would lay odds that the redhead would have a headache by day's end. Harry just might too if this business of not speaking a word to Hogsmeade yesterday kept up.

"Headmaster," Hermione asked as she raised her hand, though it hardly seemed necessary since it was only the three of them. Ron rubbed at his forehead and tugged on his bangs.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked in a completely normal voice, no hint of disappointment or anger. It was going to drive Harry stark raving mad.

Hermione lowered her hand and sat up straight, her expression intense and focused on her question. "I have a question about magical emissions in very young witches and wizards. Like the things that happened when I was little that clued my parents in on the fact I wasn't a normal muggle. I know they're common in most witches and wizards up to the age of four, which would suggest that at some point we're all able to do wandless magic, but I've never understood precisely why most of us seem to lose that ability as we get older."

Dumbledore nodded and sat down across from them in a cushioned armchair. "Ah, yes… does present quite the puzzle, doesn't it? Let me see if I can find a proper way to put this." Dumbledore tapped his fingertips together in front of his chin and rolled his tongue from one side of his mouth to the other as though the problem was taffy. Once he hit upon a tactic he fancied he lowered his hands to fold them over his stomach. "Since you're muggle-born and your parents are doctors in their own rights, perhaps this will best elucidate matters for you.

"Am I not correct in saying that when a human child is born, and shortly thereafter, he or she never has more active brain cells throughout the rest of their life than they do at that tender age?"

"Right. From infancy onward unused brain pathways atrophy while frequently used pathways become all the stronger."

"Wandless magic is quite nearly the same for witches and wizards. We are never more capable or predisposed to unaided magical use than in early childhood. But those abilities, for most individuals, fade. Ironically, taking up a wand greatly hastens that process."

"Like the neural pathways that strengthen as opposed to the ones that are rarely used?"

"Precisely. In a sense, you might say that the wand becomes a crutch and quickly the witch or wizard in question is completely dependent upon it for magical functioning. There was a time, albeit a long time ago, when wands were unknown and all magic in existence was wandless. There were, of course, far fewer practicing witches and wizards in those days, and Potions was more widely studied.

"When those with magical inclinations discovered a tool could be made that amplified that buried magical potential within them, and directed it… you could say it was a magic renaissance; it led to an explosion in magical culture, even if it marked the last days of prominent wandless magic."

"But it's not all gone," Ron piped in, his hair a fright from his tugging and worrying, "I mean, you can do wandless magic."

Dumbledore made a 'hmmm' sound in the back of his throat. "Not all gone, but exceedingly rare. And at present beyond our powers to coerce. I fear there is precious little that I can truly tell you about the mechanics of wandless magic."

Harry glanced at Hermione's pages of notes so far and bit his tongue from openly contradicting the headmaster.

"I should think that will do for now," Dumbledore said and moved to stand. Hermione opened her mouth, eager to let fly another question, but at the last second she locked her lips closed. The effort she was exerting to leave her queries unasked was almost visibly painful to watch, but Harry wasn't interested in spending all day with the headmaster.

"I trust, Miss Granger, that your diligent notes will serve to fill in any holes in Mister Weasley and Mister Potter's notes?"

Neither Harry nor Ron had jotted down a single word, and the headmaster knew that. Maybe next time he should at least bring a parchment and quill and scribble a few recurring themes down. Although Harry could see that page of notes now; 'put down wand, stare at quill, try and make it dance… patience… patience… head-ache potion… more patience… your wand won't save you now… damn quill won't move… don't go spare… patience… I hate you, quill… the centaurs will eat me… I think Trelawney has the right of things'. He could think of Potions assignments he'd rather do, but Hermione would no doubt run herd on him and Ron to at least give it an honest try. Honestly, the idea of wandless magic was infinitely more alluring than the exercises it took to actually learn it (if one even could learn it).

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered as she packed away her notes.

"Good, then. For a first lesson, I should think that was satisfactory."

'Our definitions of satisfactory differ,' Harry thought, but he wasn't looking to get into trouble for being contrary with the elder wizard. He had the sense he was treading lightly as it was.

The three of them stood and began to move toward the office door.

"Mister Potter, Miss Granger, if you would stay behind a moment; I'd like to speak with you privately."

And there it was.

Ron cast them a sympathetic look but left the room with haste. Friendship only went so far in the face of an unhappy Albus Dumbledore.

When Harry and Hermione turned back to Dumbledore the headmaster was regarding them closely. One would think they'd just claimed to be from a different dimension for all the scrutiny he was sending their way. He'd gone unbearably still and contemplative in those scant seconds since he'd dismissed their lesson. Harry fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. The headmaster had an insanely penetrating look when he aimed to, and once leveled it seemed as though Dumbledore could look straight to the truth of matters. For a horrifying, maddening moment Harry felt like the headmaster was peering right into him and could see the jaguar curled inside him. And for an instant, he could almost swear the jaguar inside him sensed the challenge and was crouched to spring, fangs bared and roaring. It was with a quick grab for control over the beast that Harry quieted the animalistic force in him. This threat was beyond him in any form. There was no way to stand against Dumbledore's magic. And it seemed, with that flash of reasoning, the jaguar noted the greater fighter and turned to flee, spitting and glowering over its shoulder as it faded back into that deep place inside him, tucked away and secure.

Dumbledore blinked and said heavily, "I trust I don't need to tell you why I've kept you."

Harry couldn't help an involuntary glance at Hermione on his left. She was rigid, her expression schooled… it was Hermione Granger willing to take her licks. "No, sir," she answered for the pair of them. Harry looked back to the headmaster and Dumbledore cut a quick and sharp gaze on Harry.

"I must say that I was most disappointed in the both of you when Professor McGonagall told me what you two did."

Surprisingly, despite his ire and indignant annoyance, that remark from the wise old headmaster still managed to sock Harry in the gut. He'd anticipated anger, in the back of his mind he remembered the kind of fits of rage Vernon Dursley would go into when Harry really screwed up, but this was completely different. There wasn't anger so much as there was sadness. Wounded feelings, shaken trust. It settled sickly in Harry's stomach. He'd not been braced for that.

"Have you any excuse for yourselves?" Dumbledore asked.

Just then, Harry wished they had. At least something other than the truth, which they mustn't tell him. But he wished they had an answer that would take the disappointment out of Dumbledore's voice. Harry dropped his eyes to the floor and pinched his lips tightly together. This hurt was really unexpected.

"We… Harry and I…" Hermione faltered, whether on the lie or perhaps plagued by the same crush of guilt as Harry he couldn't say. "We just… we wanted to be alone… together."

Dumbledore didn't speak for a time, and Harry couldn't bring himself to look up from the rug. When the headmaster did speak, it was still in that damnable tone of having been let down. "Honestly, I expected more from you both."

Hermione made a few noises, false starts of perhaps appeals to Dumbledore's kindness, but they never quite made it into words. Harry knew he would have done no better.

"Do not mistake me; I am not reprimanding your courtship unto itself. I have been headmaster of Hogwarts for a long time and have watched countless friendships blossom into relationships within this school's walls…"

Harry looked up at that. He found Dumbledore perched on the edge of his desk looking back and forth between him and Hermione.

"I even try to be understanding of the fact that you two, especially Harry, have faced trials and life-changing challenges beyond your years.

"But even that does not excuse your behavior. You knew how important it was, for your safety, that you stay within sight of the teachers sent to protect you.

"Have you any concept of the panic you caused when you two up and disappeared for hours for the ignoble purpose of 'making out'? Poor Professor McGonagall was certain you had both been kidnapped by Voldemort right out from under our noses. Consequent concern for all the other students' safety was sufficient to give poor Professor Flitwick a case of the black-out hiccups."

That cinched it. Harry now actually sort of regretted kipping off for a jaunt in the woods.

"No, sir," Hermione said in a thin voice, "we didn't… we… we didn't think of that."

"I should hope not. I'd hate to believe that either of you would be capable of understanding the repercussions and carrying on anyway." Dumbledore sighed and looked toward the paintings on his wall. If the past headmasters had any advice they weren't in the mood for sharing, for not a one of them spoke.

"But perhaps some of this is my doing," Dumbledore finally said. "Perhaps I should have told you of our plans for Hogsmeade weekend before-hand. I could see how adolescent, impetuous anger so recently ignited might cause two young students to behave irrationally, to act out against the feeling that they are being used."

'It was my idea," Harry volunteered suddenly. Hermione shot a look at him, but he pressed onward. "I talked her into sneaking off with me."

"I'd had little doubt about that," Dumbledore replied with the ghost of a smile. Harry could see Hermione's jaw drop. His own eyes widened. What exactly did thatmean?

The headmaster chuckled. "You forget that I have seen this dance play out thousands of times before. With your own parents, in fact, Harry. Lily and James were a couple apt to 'vanish' mysteriously only to resurface some time later quite disheveled for their absence. And it's usually the boy's idea."

Hermione snorted.

"And it's noble of you to accept blame, but sadly it won't stand the test of reason in this instance. I do not for a moment think you could 'talk' Miss Granger into anything she didn't consent to from the start."

Harry had to crack a smile. Dumbledore had that right.

"This once, I think I could appease myself with the rationale that you two were not thinking clearly, because one's first boyfriend or girlfriend does tend to addle the brain, and that is why you acted so disgracefully at Hogsmeade. I might even feel generous enough to forget the whole fiasco ever happened, as it would conveniently allow me to also put out of my mind the mistakes I made in dealing with you two. Provided that nothing of this nature ever happens again."

Harry could hardly believe his ears, and he had to steal a look at Hermione to make sure he'd read between the lines correctly. Her cautious expression of hope confirmed everything Harry had thought he'd heard. They were going to get off without being punished, as long as they swore to never be so disobedient again. To avoid that sick feeling of disappointing Dumbledore, he'd swear it anyway.

"We promise," Hermione said, and Harry met Dumbledore's eyes and nodded earnest agreement.

"Very well, then. Forgiven and forgotten.

"I suspect Mister Weasley is wearing a groove in the floor just outside my office door. You two had best join him before he digs me a most ill-placed ditch."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look of disbelief and made a quick exit. As predicted, Ron was waiting impatiently for them just outside the headmaster's room. When he saw them emerge he pounced. "Oiy, how bad was it? Detention for a week? With Snape even, I suppose. Oh, Harry, tell me he didn't ban you from next week's Quidditch match, the Gryffindors haven't a chance to beat Ravenclaw without you!"

"Relax, Ron," Harry said with a relieved smile. "We're not in trouble."

"Huh? Why not? Uh, I mean, that's great! But…"

Hermione started down the hall and both boys, just like the old days, took up flanking positions on either side of her without a second thought. "Oh, it doesn't really matter, I'm just glad it's done with. I'd worried it would be a lot more difficult than that, I was sure he'd start asking questions…" Hermione slowed to a halt. When Harry came abreast with her and likewise stopped he could see a look of deep thought on her face. Ron did, too, and looked to Harry in question. He could offer only a shake of his head and shrug. He still didn't have any notion as to the inner-workings of Hermione's mind.

Hermione suddenly looked up at Harry. "Harry… Dumbledore didn't even ask if we were together, he just assumed we were."

Harry thought back to Dumbledore's chiding words. "You're right…"

Ron harrumphed. "Told you."

They both looked toward their friend.

Ron offered a crooked smile and awkward shrug, then headed off down the hall ahead of them. Harry thought the whole exchange rather odd, but that seemed to be the course for the day. He was still wrapping his head around the idea that Dumbledore had fallen prey to the same rumors the rest of Hogwarts had. If anyone would see clear to the truth, surely Dumbledore would have. But apparently not. It was another surprise to add to the day's list.

Hermione watched after Ron a moment, expression taut with furiously racing thoughts, then she reached out, grabbed Harry's arm, and started after Ron. Harry, with a smirk, took up right at her side as they trailed after Ron.

❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾

Nearly four weeks passed, and things were the closest to normal they had been for a long time for the three friends. In fact, better in some ways than they'd ever been. Harry and Hermione were getting on well with Ron again, once they'd out and shared their animagus secret with him. In hindsight, it made Harry wish they'd told Ron from the start. He couldn't figure why they hadn't. Once that burden of deception had been lifted, it seemed as though a giant had physically carried off the huge weight of their troubles with them. Even Ron and Hermione were getting on better than ever. Ron was more mindful not to hurt Hermione's feelings, and when she stopped expecting barbs and japes at every turn, she relaxed more around Ron. More than once, Harry had come upon the two of them laughing about something or other. He couldn't remember ever doing that before; more likely he'd come across them fighting and have to play monkey in the middle as they tried to win him to their side of the argument. It was amazing to just sit down with them and join in the laughter instead.

Snow had begun falling with thickening regularity at Hogwarts until Harry and Hermione were bounding through drifts of snow on their morning runs. Hermione had started performing a heat charm on their way back to melt away their paw prints. It meant they had to be more careful where once they'd run with unfettered alacrity, but in Harry's estimations it was a small price to pay for the hour of going wild with her.

Ron had come around well and good to his two best friends being animagi, too. At first he'd been a little hesitant, almost borderline shy. He'd sneak in off-hand questions when no one was near, like 'what's it feel like' and 'have you ever eaten a squirrel?' When his inquiries weren't rebuffed, instead answered readily, Ron grew bolder. By now, he was quite the eager beaver to know the ins and outs of his friends the jaguar and the lioness. He'd actually approached Hermione once and asked what he'd need to do if he wanted to become an animagus, too… he listened to only half of the complex, complicated process before he threw up his hands in surrender and contented himself with being the good friend of animagi instead.