That night in the common room, two days before they would be heading home for summer holiday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last ones in the Gryffindor tower still awake, clustered around the hearth fire. Ron was on the rug, on his back with his hands interlaced behind his head, while Harry and Hermione were on the couch. None of the three were talking, but a tension did permeate the air around them. Hermione was anxious about the idea of Harry leaving in two days for the Burrow only because she wouldn't see him until next term. She knew he'd be better off at the Burrow, safe and nurtured by the eminently maternal Molly Weasley, but that didn't appease the griffin in her chest that told her she needed to keep Harry close. She knew it was silly and didn't say anything to either Ron or Harry about it, but it dampened her mood and she could tell the boys noticed. Well, Ron didn't notice so much as pick up on the fact that the atmosphere was a little drearier, because Harry did notice and he'd been quieter for Hermione's grumpiness. It was just as well they'd be leaving for the holidays soon; Hermione was throwing the boys off with her mood. And once she was home she could rest assured that Molly Weasley would be like a hawk when it came to Harry's well-being.

Hermione tucked her leg up underneath her on the cushion and glanced over at Harry. He was in his pajamas, a tatty old hand-me-down T-shirt from Dudley and flannel pants. Unbidden, Hermione noticed the way his shirt hung on his body. Since that first night after Voldemort, the unspeakable night she would never mention to anyone, she discovered she just noticed Harry more acutely than she used to. It was simply that details she never really attended to before suddenly jumped out and she noticed. She also discovered what would probably be considered a guilty pleasure. She liked noticing Harry, the way his hair fell and his body moved and his expression waxed. It was comforting to see him in subtle motion as he was now, breathing and blinking and thinking in the firelight. Somehow it made things right for the time.

Harry was watching her at that very moment, and Hermione tried to remember if he'd been watching her the entire time or just happened to look when she noticed. He watched her rather frequently. Did Harry use to watch her before and she hadn't noticed? She didn't know, but she didn't mind. It wasn't uncomfortable to find him watching her. Watching her just for the sake of watching, the simple act of absently observing. That seemed strange in the same way it was strange that she didn't get flustered when Harry caught her watching him. Maybe for the right to openly watch him, she likewise gave him unspoken permission to watch her in much the same way. And since it was mutual, it was okay.

Both were startled when there was a frantic tapping on the tower window. Ron jerked and looked over his head toward the window. "Oh, good, about time." He rolled to his feet and went to the window. When he opened it, Pigwidgeon came darting in excitedly. He made a few circles of the room before Ron could catch him and remove the note tied to the bird's leg. Once he had the paper he let the bird go and Pig twittered then flew out the open window.

Ron unrolled the scroll with a loathsome look toward the retreating Pig. "Oh, good, it's from Mum. Let's see…" Ron's eyes scanned as he read. "Great! Just like I said, Harry, you can stay. Never doubted it for a second. Mum'll be picking you up from King's Cross with the rest of us. Oh, wait…" Ron read further. "Hey! We're going on a vacation! All of us, I mean. Wow, I didn't figure we'd get to go on another trip so soon after Egypt. Not for another few years, for sure. No worries, mate, you're invited along, naturally."

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"Romania. Cool! Harry, looks like we'll be spending half the summer holiday with Charlie." Ron quickly read a passage in the letter. "What with the tournament… uh… well, on account of that, the lair director, Charlie's boss over in Romania, is letting the dragon-keepers have guests over to test out a kind of public relations program to raise interest in dragon-keeping." Ron read silently a moment. "Wow, looks a bit like the dragon overseers are hoping the use of dragons in the… you know, the tournament, will get more people interested in working with them. Does seem a bit off-balance that the Aurors get all the attention for dangerous jobs, after all, what with fire-breathing dragons!

"In any case, it means we get to spend half of summer holiday in Romania finding out what it's like to work with dragons! How bloody brilliant is that? A bit scary, of course, but not all dragons can be like the ones used this year, could they?"

Hermione could see Ron was quickly getting hyped up about the prospect of a vacation. She knew it wasn't Romania or the dragons in themselves that had him excited, but more the act of going. It was what normal, well-off families would do, spend part of their vacation in another country. That would be all Ron noticed or cared about. Hermione looked toward Harry to get his reaction and found him almost unnaturally still. He was staring into the fire, as though actively trying to be motionless, the only flicker of life a pensive look in his eyes.

At long delay Harry looked up at the exuberant redhead. "Sounds great, Ron." Despite the words, the tone was grave and low. Even Ron, in his state, noticed and his energy lagged.

Harry frowned to himself. "But… well, I think I'd better just go back to Privet Drive."

Ron's mouth opened in shock and Hermione's eyes widened. Harry didn't say a word.

"What?!" Ron ejaculated. He gaped and blinked. "You can't bloody mean that. Why would you want to do that?"

Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable and shifted his gaze away from his friend. "It's just that… I don't really fancy a holiday in Romania surrounded by dragons. To be honest, I had quite my fill of dragons after that Hungarian Horntail."

Ron paled then looked down at the note longingly. Hermione could see him debating with himself, torn between what he should do as a friend and what he selfishly wanted to do.

"Well… I don't imagine we have to go," Ron finally took the high road. Not without a tone of regret and obvious reluctance, however. "I mean, if we explained to Mum…"

"No," Harry interrupted. "No, you guys don't get to see Charlie enough. You all ought to go. I won't let you cancel this vacation for me." Harry gave Ron a smile. "Go, Ron. I'll be fine. Don't worry, no problem."

Ron frowned. Hermione willed Ron to take up the gauntlet.

"Well, if you're sure…"

Harry nodded. "Definite. Have a good time and watch yourself, I can't abide by those dragons much."

Ron's shoulders slumped but he didn't fight. He sighed in defeat instead. "All right then. Well, I better owl Mum back and let her know that you won't be coming. She'll be disappointed, I know, she really does fret over you, Harry. Ginny'll be down-right gloomy."

Ron went upstairs, changed, then headed out of the common room to go to the owlery and get Pig. Hermione and Harry were left alone with only the loud cracks and pops in the fireplace to break the silence.

Hermione sat beside Harry and quaked inside. Her efforts seemed to have evaporated around her and Harry was back to doomed to that wretched family for the summer. She wanted to be furious with Ron but she couldn't very well expect his whole family to not see Charlie when the chance presented itself. Harry was right, the Weasleys didn't see much of Charlie, what with the oldest son living in Romania. Hermione was angry that she couldn't get angry.

Harry was subdued. He was resigned. He was back to his pre-holiday mental preparations. Hermione sighed in consternation.

Harry, without turned to look at her, cocked his head in query.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?"

Harry's mouth tightened. "Yeah, I am."

"Surely dragons couldn't be all that bad."

Harry turned to look at her, and his eyes were unflinching while at the same time begged for understanding. "Your opinion tends to change after one has spit fire at you and tried to tear you limb for limb. I just… well, it may sound foolish but I know I'd just be waiting for another one to start in on me like that Horntail and I'd just as soon not spend all holiday waiting to be attacked. My chances are better at the Dursleys, I think." Harry laughed sardonically. "Less chance of dodgy nerves at the Dursleys."

Hermione wanted to cry or scream, she wasn't sure which, so she sat there and frowned.

Harry looked away and stood. "I'm turning in. Goodnight, Hermione."

Hermione watched Harry trudge up the stairs. Her mind worked furiously. After all of three seconds she jumped up from the couch and hurried up the girls' dorm. She dressed quickly then left the Gryffindor tower.

Dumbledore better still be awake.

❾¾ ❾¾❾¾

"Come in."

Hermione hesitated only momentarily at the beckon from the other side of Dumbledore's office door. The knocker she had just used had wagged its tongue against her palm and Hermione wiped the slobber from her hand as she pushed her way into the headmaster's office. The portraits were all sleeping and it lent an air of almost tomb-like quiet to what would be the normal state of a muggle room. The headmaster was in a baby's breath blue night robe, standing behind his desk feeding Fawkes. He turned his head when she entered. "Ah, Miss Granger. You're about the castle particularly late, and I must commend your athleticism in evading Missus Norris and Filch at such an hour. Please, sit and have a lemon cake, to have made it here without detection must have worked up a dreadful appetite."

Hermione dutifully sat down and eyed the plate of lemon squares that had appeared on a table in front of her. She took one but rather than eat it she held it in her hand and watched Dumbledore.

The headmaster finished feeding his phoenix then turned to his guest. "Now, as headmaster I must chide you for being out of your house tower after curfew. And now that that's out of the way, what brings you here?" Dumbledore sat down at his desk and peered at Hermione over his half-moon glasses.

Hermione took a breath. She'd been so head-strong and sure when she left the tower… now her bravely seemed dwarfed by the headmaster's presence.

"Headmaster… it's about Harry."

"Ahh."

Hermione put the lemon square back. "Ron just got answer from his mum about Harry staying at the Burrow this summer."

"She didn't decline to take Harry in." Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in the beginning state of shock, or at the very least genuine surprise.

"No. Absolutely not. She said he could stay… thing is, sir, that the Weasleys are going to be spending half of the holiday in Romania visiting Ron's brother Charlie at the dragon lairs."

Dumbledore nodded and waited.

Hermione sighed in irritation. "And then when Harry hears this he decides he'd rather go back to the Dursleys than vacation at a dragon lair. He said something about putting up with the Dursleys being worth not having to put up with the dragons. Personally, I'd think dragons would be an improvement, but Harry was adamant."

Dumbledore nodded again. "I can see that flummoxes you."

"Well, yes sir. That family of his is rotten, you and I both know it. I'd think Harry would do anything to not have to go back there. I'd even think dragons would be a small price to pay."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "If I may point out, Miss Granger, you've never been pursued by a dragon."

"Of course I haven't, but still…"

"The concept of being hunted by a dragon and the experience of it are very different things. You'll find most who have been dragon prey find the memory quite… disturbing. It's not a reaction that can be rightly or quite succinctly put into written words. No, it doesn't surprise me that Harry would choose his less-than-loving family over the dragons right now. His unpleasant encounter with a dragon is very recent, and with a Hungarian Horntail no less… Don't think less of Harry for his reluctance to meet a dragon again so soon. The last time I tangled with a dragon it was eight years before I went near another one, and that was Norbert."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Well… I suppose. You're right that I can't speak to what it was like for Harry going head to head with that dragon. But still, because of that whole dragon thing he's opting to return to the Dursleys rather than spend the holiday with the Weasleys.

"Sir… I still feel strongly that Harry shouldn't have to go back there."

"Yes, I can see you do. What do you propose?"

With a jolt of determination, Hermione sat up and looked Dumbledore in the eye. "I propose Harry come home with me."

Dumbledore merely watched Hermione as if she were being graded.

"Of course he wouldn't be as comfortable at my house as the Burrow, as he's never been there before, but I could ask my parents and I'm sure, I'm almost certain, they'd say yes. I could owl my mum and dad tonight and beg them to let Harry come this summer if I have to. Would that work, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore did not answer right away. He ran his index finger through his beard and looked up at his sleeping portraits as though seeking their opinion. Finally, after an unbearable moment of silence, he answered. "I have considered that. In fact, the moment you told me Harry decided not to go with the Weasleys I've been turning the problem over in my head."

"Problem?"

"I'm afraid so. You see, at the Burrow Molly and Arthur are there to safeguard Harry. Magically protect him."

Hermione's heart sank. "Oh."

"Thus the problem. I have no doubt that your parents would be most courteous and gracious; your manner would suggest they're positively delightful muggles. But they are muggles. With Voldemort's return we can't know what is in the very near future. We must consider Harry's safety; there's nothing to say Voldemort won't try to attack Harry while he's away from the school."

Dumbledore stood and paced behind his desk. "That your family is muggle, however, also bears a distinct advantage. You're of no relation to Harry the way the Dursleys are, so the connection would not be obvious. You live in a muggle home in a muggle community… I would bet my favorite shower cap that neither Voldemort nor his followers would have the first clue how to use a 'telephone book'. While Harry would be vulnerable, he'd also have a measure of protection gained through the difficulty to locate him. I believe the muggle phrase is 'hiding in plain sight'?" Dumbledore tapped his chin thoughtfully. "There is still the problem of him being so defenseless should anything happen."

"Is there any way the ministry could lift the ban on underage magic? Just for me and Harry? Between the two of us, I know… well, I think we could manage to fend off any attackers."

"I'm afraid not. First, to do so we would have to inform the ministry of Harry's intended whereabouts, and to be frank we don't know where Voldemort's dormant supporters have ended up. I hate to say it, but we cannot completely trust the Ministry of Magic. Second, while I admire both Harry's skill as well as yours, particularly given your ages, you are both still students. I could not in good conscience leave you to fend for yourselves considering the possible dangers."

Just as Hermione was feeling hopeless Dumbledore stopped and his eyes twinkled meaningfully.

"But there may be a way…"

Hermione sat up alertly.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "Now, under any other circumstances my first inclination would be to have an Auror assigned to Harry. At present, however, that's not a wholly wise move. We've already addressed the questionable alliances within the ministry. And we can't get you and Harry special allowance for underage magic for the same reasons. But who is able to use magic without it registering with the ministry?"

Hermione thought furiously. She couldn't think of anyone who could use magic without the ministry getting wind of it. The ministry was strict about keeping and eye on people doing magic who shouldn't be or in ways they oughtn't to be. As she wracked her brain her eyes fell on the plate of lemon squares. A passage read in a book once leapt into her thoughts.

"House elves!" she exclaimed.

Dumbledore smiled.

"But no," Hermione shook her head. "Dobby used magic at Harry's house in third year and the ministry jumped down Harry's throat for it, thinking he did it."

"Yes… but Dobby was under the service of the Malfoys at the time and he was at the Durlseys without leave from his master to be there, and nor were his actions aimed to serve his master. That made his magic use illegal in house elf law. When a house elf performs illegal magic the ministry knows it. A house elf under command to perform magic would not register, nor would…"

"A free elf."

"Very good, Miss Granger. I trust I do not have to tell you how powerful house elf magic is?"

Hermione shook her head. She knew. The house elves were restrained only by their code of conduct toward service and wizard-kind. While they wielded magic effortlessly, they seldom chose to do so outside of service to their masters. They didn't have the ferocious drive to compete that would predispose them to seek equality with wizards and witches while they inherently had the magical ability to do so. Their lives were simple as slaves, and for their service they were cared for. Their inherently unassuming nature was the reason that free elves weren't monitored. They didn't do harm because it would complicate their lives, which they'd much prefer to avoid.

Hermione thought aloud, "Then, do you propose Dobby…"

"Gracious, no." Dumbledore's answer surprised Hermione. "Do not mistake me, I am fond of the vivacious elf himself, but he is… shall we say… obsessive? I don't know if you noticed, but Dobby has developed quite a fixation on Harry. I imagine he would be more of a nuisance as Harry's watcher than a help. We must also remember that Dobby served the Malfoys. While his intentions are good, the wizards from whom he learned his magic and its uses… well, no need to really speak to that, I should think.

"I do have an idea for an elf that might suit our purposes."

While Hermione sat watching, Dumbledore walked to his fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and tossed it into the flames. His expression became focused and intent, indication of tapping into the power of his concentration. The fire flared green, sputtered, then a small creature bounded out of the hearth.

Hermione blinked. It was a house elf. A house elf with globular green eyes and bat-like ears more erect than Dobby's. What threw Hermione was that this elf was wearing clothes. The magical creature was wearing a pair of smiley-face boxers, they covered its body knees to chest, and strings tied to handfuls of the elastic band served as suspenders. The elf looked around the room, looked at Hermione, then turned to Dumbledore.

"Master Albus! So long it's been!"

"Hello, Kimmy." Dumbledore knelt down beside the house elf and looked toward Hermione. "Hermione, this is Kimmy. Kimmy, Hermione Granger. Kimmy has served the Dumbledores for over ninety years."

Hermione couldn't quite believe it. "The Dumbledores have slaves?" She could not help the reproach in her voice.