Silently counting the seconds in her head, Lynn reached the instant the timer ended and gently tapped Hermione, who was still curiously inspecting the frozen goods.
"Hermione, time's up. We need to leave. Stay any longer and we'll risk catching a cold or hypothermia."
At Lynn's words, Hermione straightened without hesitation. "All right, let's go."
With that, she followed Lynn out of the cold storage, and together they shut and locked the heavy door.
Rubbing her slightly chilled arms, Hermione turned to Lynn inquisitively.
"How did you know we'd start getting sick if we stayed longer? Have you been watching the time since we went in?"
Lynn nodded calmly. "I've been counting. You can't stay in a freezer too long."
"Impressive—as expected of you." Hermione gave her a thumbs-up, then towed her along to continue exploring the villa, feeding Lynn crisps as they walked.
Still, she remembered her mother's instructions. After sharing one bag, Hermione stopped offering snacks, and she didn't eat any more herself.
Without Hermione feeding her, Lynn wouldn't touch the crisps. The bag looked exactly as it had when they'd left the living room.
She set the unopened packet back on the table just as Mrs. Granger called everyone to lunch.
Hurrying to the kitchen, Lynn collected plates and cutlery, then began laying the table.
Hermione followed with two dishes, while Mr. Granger carried over two bowls of onion soup.
When everything was ready, Lynn stood beside her chair and waited until Mr. and Mrs. Granger were seated before taking her own place.
After two weeks under the same roof, the Grangers were used to her habits and etiquette.
So they didn't stand on ceremony; they picked up their cutlery and began.
Lynn wouldn't start until they did, so the sooner they ate, the better.
Seeing them begin lunch, Lynn served herself a steak. Instinct urged her to shove the whole piece in, chew twice, and swallow.
But watching Hermione cut hers with neat precision, she remembered her promise to eat more slowly.
Her eyes—flat as still water—lowered to the steak. She sliced it into uniform pieces and ate them one by one.
Hermione noticed from the corner of her eye and nodded approvingly before returning to her own plate.
After lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Granger prepared to leave. Mrs. Granger bent down to her daughter.
"Enjoy your holiday—drink what you like and snack as you please. Just remember to brush properly, all of you. Understood?"
"Don't worry, Mum. We will," Hermione promised.
Satisfied, Mrs. Granger ruffled her hair and gently pinched Lynn's cheek.
"Good girl. Don't take everything on yourself; let Hermione do her share."
Hermione pouted. She'd do whatever needed doing without being asked; she wasn't about to let Lynn shoulder everything while she relaxed.
"Thank you, Auntie. Drive safely," Lynn replied mechanically.
Mr. Granger bade the girls goodbye, and the couple drove off.
The gate closed slowly. Now only Lynn and Hermione remained in the house; Harry and the others wouldn't arrive until tomorrow.
Though spare bedrooms were plentiful, Hermione—who had shared a room with Lynn for two weeks—wanted to keep sleeping beside her; having Lynn close at night was wonderfully comforting.
And so cuddly.
Turning hopefully, Hermione asked softly, "Lynn, will you sleep with me again tonight?"
Sharing a bed meant staying together all night, which meant protecting Hermione more easily. Lynn's mind ran the equation and nodded without hesitation. "All right."
Beaming, Hermione pulled her upstairs. It was midday—perfect for a nap.
Lying in bed, Lynn regarded the peacefully sleeping Hermione curled against her. Beneath the covers, her right hand rested inside her pocket, fingers wrapped around her wand.
The first two weeks of the holidays were almost over; Enforcement Agents could arrive at any moment. She had to stay alert.
Throughout the nap, Lynn never released her wand. Her senses stayed sharp, ears tracking every sound, eyes flicking between door and window.
Hermione woke to find Lynn wide-eyed and expressionless.
She rubbed her eyes drowsily. "Lynn... didn't you sleep at all?"
"It's not my sleep cycle. I'm not tired," Lynn stated matter-of-factly.
"Fine... I get it," Hermione sighed, sitting up to wake herself.
Lynn rose as well, stretched, then turned to her, face calm.
Hermione stifled a yawn, went to splash water on her face, and checked the time: four o'clock.
Following her gaze to the clock, Lynn said nothing; dinner prep began at five, so there was no rush.
They watched television for an hour before Lynn headed to the kitchen. Hermione followed to help.
Aware of the risks from gas and knives, Lynn kept Hermione away from them and handed her a whisk and a bowl of eggs instead.
Hermione cracked the eggs and began whisking smoothly.
She watched Lynn work: the knife moved so fast Hermione's eyes couldn't keep up, and the vegetables were diced in seconds.
No matter how many times she saw it, the speed was startling. "Lynn, aren't you afraid of cutting yourself going that fast?"
Under her mother's supervision Hermione had always cut slowly—safety first—and even Mrs. Granger wasn't quick.
Lynn's hands never paused, the blade a blur of practiced motion.
"At first I did, but after enough cuts you stop feeling it."
Hermione's brows snapped together as the calm voice delivered the plainest of truths.
Cracking eggs, she glanced at Lynn's hands—no scars, thank goodness; the earlier slip of the knife must have been shallow.
Lynn noticed the scrutiny, yet her knife never slowed.
A quick replay of Hermione's earlier words told her exactly what the other girl was looking for: marks on her skin.
Thanks to the world consciousness winding her body back, not a single scar remained.
The old body had been a map of them—knife tracks from first learning to chop, chilblains on her hands, more on her feet.
She felt nothing at the memory, simply slid the diced vegetables into the wok.
Between them they produced a generous but not excessive dinner.
After the meal they watched television together until Hermione towed her upstairs at eleven.
In bed, Hermione curled an arm round her; listening to the breathing even out, Lynn knew she was asleep.
Eyes bright in the dark, she slipped her wand beneath the pillow—no pockets in pyjamas—and closed her right hand around it.
At twelve she let her lids fall, dropping into the thinnest layer of sleep, ready to surface at the faintest stir.
Deep in the night Hermione murmured and rolled over; Lynn's eyes flashed open, wand whipping from under the pillow to point at the space Hermione now faced, face blank, heart hammering.
Five silent minutes later she lowered the wand, laid it back beneath the pillow and closed her fist around it once more.
She woke every hour; every time Hermione shifted she bolted upright. By six o'clock a dull ache pulsed behind her temples.
She shook it off, slid into slippers and went down to make breakfast.
Breakfast ready, she hurried back upstairs to check that Hermione was still safely in bed before her nerves slackened a fraction.
At eight-thirty Hermione sat up rubbing her eyes; Lynn sat beside her, right hand in her pocket, gaze unblinking.
Had anyone else stared like that on waking, Hermione would already have been planning escape routes.
But it was Lynn, so she simply wrapped both arms round her waist and nuzzled closer.
"You're always up so early—sleep in for once."
Looking down at the arms circling her, Lynn felt nothing beyond a quickened heartbeat. "Can't be lazy. One indulgence leads to another."
Hermione sighed into her waist.
"Breakfast's ready—come eat."
Flat tone; Hermione nodded and padded to the bathroom.
Without hesitation Lynn followed, stopping at the door, head lowered, ears sharp for any sign of trouble.
A moment later Hermione emerged and they went down together.
After breakfast they settled in the lounge, television murmuring while they waited for the other five.
At nine sharp the bell rang; someone was at the gate.
Hermione rose to answer, but Lynn was already ahead of her.
At the gate she drew her wand in her right hand and pressed the remote with her left; the gates slid open.
Harry and Ron stood outside. "Morning!" they chorused, bright grins freezing when they saw the wand.
"Er… why the wand?" Harry asked, pointing hesitantly.
No magic allowed on holiday—and they weren't even late.
Ron, equally rattled, shot a glance past Lynn to Hermione, who looked just as startled.
Satisfied they weren't Enforcement Agents, Lynn pocketed the wand and gave a curt nod.
"Morning. I didn't know who was outside—better safe."
The explanation sounded reasonable; the villa was isolated, after all.
They stepped inside; before the gates could close a shout came from above. "Don't shut it—Lynn, wait!"
She snapped her gaze skyward; voices could be faked, she needed to see.
Sure enough, the figure swooping down on a flying broomstick was her roommate, Senior Maranhao.
She hit the button again; the gates reopened while she kept Maranhao in sight, alert for any tail.
Maranhao landed cleanly, hair wind-tousled. "Morning, everyone!"
"Morning, Senior Maranhao!" the other four replied.
Once Maranhao was inside, Lynn resealed the gate.
Hermione stepped forward, curious. "If you were on a broom, why not fly straight in?"
Maranhao smoothed her hair. "In the Wizarding World, landing over someone's walled garden on a broom is as rude as Apparition straight into their parlour."
"Ah, got it," Hermione nodded.
Lynn stored the etiquette lesson away, gaze calm and watchful.
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