The smile on Hermione's lips could no longer be hidden; it was a satisfaction of total control. She lowered her head, brushed aside a few silver strands of hair on Lia's forehead that had been ruffled by the wind, and pressed a precious kiss onto that smooth, full forehead.
"Whoa."
Harry's voice and Sirius's light chuckle from the mirror rang out simultaneously.
"Look," Harry couldn't help but share the gossip with his godfather in the mirror, "Hermione is 'bullying' Lia again."
In the mirror, a smile characteristic of someone who had seen it all—a mix of teasing and understanding—appeared on Sirius's defiant face. He shook his head and slowly corrected:
"No, Harry."
"That's called training."
Harry was stunned, not understanding the deep meaning behind the word, only feeling that Sirius's smile hid the world of adults that he couldn't grasp.
On the other side of the compartment, the "sealed" Lia narrowed her eyes in satisfaction, letting out a comfortable purr from her throat, her head tilting to rest on Hermione's shoulder as she fell into a deep sleep.
The Hogwarts Express blew its long whistle, slowly pulling into King's Cross Station.
"Lia, wake up, we're home." Hermione lightly patted the dead-to-the-world Lia.
Lia let out a sticky mumble from her throat, her tail still stubbornly wrapped around Hermione's waist with no intention of letting go. She was led off the train, swaying blindly with her eyes closed, before gradually waking up.
"You guys have to come; my dad has prepared tickets with great seats."
"Don't worry, we'll be there."
"Great! See you at the Quidditch World Cup!"
After making plans with Harry and Hermione, Ron left happily with Mrs. Weasley.
As soon as she heard "Quidditch World Cup," Lia jolted all over, looking warily in Ron's direction.
On the platform, The Grangers had been waiting for a long time. Seeing the two girls, Mrs. Granger's face broke into a familiar and gentle smile.
"Hermione, Lia, welcome home!" She opened her arms and gave the two girls a big hug. "You must be exhausted from the journey."
"Mom, Dad," Hermione responded with a smile. Mr. Granger joked, "It looks like I'll have to double the fish reserves at home this holiday."
Lia also greeted them politely: "Uncle, Auntie." She was no longer as wary and distant as when they first met; those blue eyes held the relaxation of returning home, though her body still subconsciously pressed close to Hermione.
As for the overly intimate relationship between their daughter and this beautiful cat-eared girl, The Grangers had long since moved from initial surprise to an understanding acceptance. They just took it as an exceptionally deep friendship between young girls, and were even happy to see their usually independent daughter having such a dependent "little follower."
The journey home was all too familiar.
After dinner, Hermione's bedroom was still that safe haven filled with books and sunlight.
Thud!
The sound of the door being closed and locked behind them was more suggestive than any spell.
An unknown amount of time passed, and the moonlight outside had climbed to the middle of the sky.
In the bathroom, the water gurgled, and the mist was dense.
After the two of them finished washing, the quiet room was left with only their intertwined breathing and the faint scent in the air—a mix of the fresh fragrance of shower gel and the scent of young girls.
Lia lay flat beside Hermione, her eyes somewhat empty as she stared at the ceiling. A faint pink still lingered on her snowy-white skin, and even the tip of her tail had a post-satiation laziness, hanging motionless at the edge of the bed.
"Hermione..." she called out indistinctly, her voice raspy and soft.
"Hmm?" Hermione turned on her side, propping up her head, her fingertips occasionally combing through the moonlight-soft silver hair spread across the pillow.
"The Quidditch World Cup... are we really going?" Lia suddenly asked out of the blue.
Hermione's movements paused. "What's wrong? You seemed to be looking forward to it. And Ron and the others would really want us to go."
Lia didn't answer immediately.
She was just carefully savoring the fact that from the moment she heard the words "Quidditch World Cup" on the train, her instinct, rooted in Danger Intuition, had been sending a faint but continuous stinging sensation, like static electricity, at the back of her neck.
The feeling wasn't strong, but it was like a thorn that couldn't be pulled out.
She hesitated for a moment but ultimately didn't say it. She didn't want to ruin the hard-won peaceful and sweet start to the holiday, nor did she want to see Hermione worry about something that hadn't happened yet.
She turned over and gently bit Hermione's smooth collarbone, then buried her face in the crook of her neck, taking a deep breath of the scent on Hermione that made her feel incredibly at ease.
That faint scent of books and body fragrance was the best sedative in the world.
"Then let's go," Lia's muffled voice came through. "As long as I'm with Hermione, I can go anywhere."
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