Chapter Twenty
Reposting Guy's Notes - I apologise for the delay today. I had a doctor's appointment. It ran a little late than expected. Flu season here. Everybody is getting sick. Take care Folks.
Hogwarts's open courtyards had never seemed so still. The silence was stark, the emptiness jarring. It seemed almost abandoned, a relic turned ancient in only a month. The most deserted Harry had ever seen the school before was during winter holiday when most of the student body had gone home for Christmas. But even then there were a handful of students who stayed behind with Harry. If ever it got this deathly quiet, this unmoving, it was certain to be shortly broken by the arrival of someone else. This was perfect solitude. It was almost as though Harry and the girl at his side were the last people left on the planet.
And yet, the emptiness of the open grounds was preferable to the vacant, echoing halls of the castle behind them. Without the press of students or the sweeping presence of the teachers, the vaulted ceilings and endless halls seemed almost tomb-like in their cavernous hollowness. It was a relief to be outside, though the outdoors was just as lonely.
Harry and Hermione strolled across the yard slowly, no particular destination in mind. Once they'd stepped out into the sunlight Hermione had, without a word, slipped her hand into his. Harry didn't object or resist, there was no one to see or care but them.
They were still walking hand in hand. In its own way, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Hermione was somewhere else; Harry could see it in her expression when he glanced toward her face. He wished he could be where she was, because it repeatedly brought a content, dreamy half-smile to her lips and clouded her eyes. He didn't ask her where she was going in her mind. He didn't want to rip her from it. Instead he enjoyed the way it softened her face so wonderfully, touched her features with an untroubled ease that seemed so rare and treasured in light of recent times.
Their meandering took them to the base of the beech tree at the shores of the Black Lake. They'd arrived there almost by silent agreement, and Hermione at last let go of his hand to sit on the ground. Harry sat down beside her and leaned back against the tree. Hermione scooted over to share the trunk with him. Harry inched over as much as he could, but the tree was not that broad and for them both to lean against it they had to settle for also leaning against each other. Hermione tucked into his side, curled with the book in her lap and her knees almost in Harry's lap, and he truly did not mind in the least.
Hermione sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Harry went to another place himself where his only experience was the press of her at his side, her hair tickling his cheek and neck, her sigh very near his ear. He smiled faintly to himself.
They watched the sunlight glint off the ripples in the lake's surface in silence a few minutes. This they would not have during term.
"Are you terribly upset with me?" Hermione asked in a small voice.
Harry was thrown. He'd been so content, so fully at ease under the shade of the tree, that the question seemed utterly out of place. "For what?"
Hermione pulled away enough to take her head off his shoulder and Harry missed it. "This business of going to my grandmum's."
"Oh." Harry had honestly, for a minute, forgotten. Now that he was reminded once more he was back to being displeased about the whole affair. Harry looked critically at Hermione. "I'm not upset with you. I know you're only trying to help. I just don't like what I've dragged you into. And your parents. You don't deserve it."
"And you do?" she asked shortly, that fire of Hermione Granger catching tinder.
"No, but that still doesn't make it right that I should force you to be in danger, too. I owe you better."
"Will you just accept that as long as you're in the thick of it I will be too?"
Harry closed his eyes. He understood that only too well... well enough for it to make him ache. "I won't stop trying to protect you." He said it in the tone of a promise, a vow.
"Neither will I when it comes to you." Hermione was quiet a moment. Harry looked out over the lake, recalling the murky depths, the merpeople, the grindylows. It looked so much nicer from the surface.
"It scares me, you know."
Harry glanced at Hermione to see her worrying the edge of the book/portkey anxiously. "Voldemort?"
Hermione shook her head. "You. I'm scared one day you're just going to leave. Decide you're better off without me and go."
"I'll never be better off without you," Harry said, "but you may be better off without me."
"That's not true."
Harry shrugged and tipped his head back to rest against the tree. He suspected he and Hermione could go in circles on this all day and not accomplish anything. Definitely never reach a consensus. And he couldn't assuage her fears and tell her he'd never strike off on his own without telling her, without taking her. He could see where one day it might be the only way to keep her safe. If it came to that, he'd do it. He closed his eyes and let a handful of heavy seconds fall away.
"There's another reason I thought we should go to my gram's, besides what I told Dumbledore."
Harry cracked open his eyes and looked over at her curiously.
Hermione met his gaze steadily. "She lives in the country. Before my grandpa died he trained horses, was quite good at it, actually. They had this beautiful farm, with meadows and creeks... it would be a perfect place for us to work on our 'project'."
There wasn't an appropriate emotional response to that. Harry hardly felt the potential benefit to their animagus work came even close to outweighing the risk posed by Voldemort finding him. Since his nightmare, their animagus project had not even entered into his mind. But he knew Hermione would be thinking in four directions at once. That was just classic Hermione.
"Dumbledore seems to think it's a good idea," Harry finally conceded. "I trust him to know what he's doing."
It was the closest to an endorsement she would get out of Harry. From the nod and look in her eyes, she knew it, too. She leaned further into his side, to put more of her weight on the tree, but she didn't put her head back on his shoulder. Harry was mildly disappointed at that. "I can ask my mum to drive us up there on Saturday. It's just two days from now and I'm sure she'd like to see her mum for a while; I hope that's soon enough. I bet Gram would have us for at least two weeks. Honestly, she'd probably have us longer, but Mum and Dad will want us home before that long. Would be hard to come up with an excuse for staying longer, I think."
Harry looked quickly at Hermione. "Are you not planning on telling them the reason for all of this?" "No." Hermione scowled out over the water.
"No, I've thought on it, and I just don't think it would help any to tell them. Gorby will be there if anything goes wrong, to get Mum and Dad safe to Hogwarts, but should it not go wrong then there's no reason to worry them needlessly."
Harry didn't say it, but he would bet his Firebolt that another reason for her secrecy that she had not named was the fear that, if Miranda and Jake knew the full extent of the situation, they'd feel they had no choice but to separate Harry and Hermione. No choice but to send Harry away. Because Harry feared that, too, he wouldn't challenge Hermione's decision to deceive her parents. He'd take the coward's path in this and let Hermione call the shots under the convenient guise of 'they're her parents, she'd know how to handle them best'.
"Something you must know about my grandmother before we go... she doesn't know that I'm a witch."
Harry turned a flabbergasted expression on her. "She doesn't?"
Hermione shook her head. "When my parents discovered I was a witch, they made the decision not to tell anyone in the family. Truth be told, I think they sort of hoped it was a phase I'd grow out of. After that it was just easier to keep it quiet. My Gram's nice, but stuck in her ways. Magic and wizards are fairy tales to her."
"Huh," Harry muttered, finding the notion that anyone in Hermione's family could fail to notice how different she was, how special she was, beyond peculiar. The Dursleys had always pegged him as a 'freak'... but then, they'd known his parents were magical.
Hermione nestled down further against his side, more comfortably against the tree trunk, and Harry decided there was little to be gained in thinking about it further. It had been decided they'd be going, and that was that.
A cool breeze skirted over the surface of the lake and stirred the leaves overhead. They fell into companionable silence, two lone teenagers at the water's edge.
The peace was shattered when suddenly Hermione gasped. Harry looked quickly at her. Hermione, a stunned look on her face, turned to the tree at their backs and pried a section of bark off with her fingers. She stared down at the scrap of bark in wonder, amazement, then looked up at Harry and beamed.
Harry smiled back at her.
Hermione tucked the piece of tree into her pocket and somehow the accomplishment, first attained on Hogwarts school grounds, left the solemn atmosphere of earlier far behind.
With a sudden thought, Harry jumped up. Hermione looked up after him, querulous at his sudden motion.
"I want to go down to the Quidditch pitch before we leave." Hermione smiled in understanding. The one thing he couldn't do at the Grangers that he would have at the Weasleys, the one joy he thought he had surrendered for the summer, he could do now. Flight.
Hermione stood and walked with Harry down to the pitch. She took up a lone spectator role in the stands while Harry fetched a Cleansweep from the Quidditch locker room. When Harry kicked off and took to the air he was free. Free from worry, from Voldemort, from his life. There was only the wind in his hair and Hermione's distant, heartfelt calls of encouragement in his ears.
Roberta Richardson had seen them coming down the road from the living room window. She was standing in her open front doorway when the car came to a stop in front of the house. She was already moving forward when the passenger-side door flung open and a young woman with wild brown hair leapt from the vehicle and ran across the yard with a huge grin on her face.
"Gram!"
The two women, old and young, met in an embrace and Berti laughed merrily. "Hermione! Goodness, child, you've grown. Let me take a look at you." Berti pulled back and looked closely at her granddaughter. The teenager was radiant, so much less the child that Berti remembered, and flashing that beautiful smile of hers. Berti shook her head and chuckled. "I would never think just a year would make such a difference, but you're practically a grown woman!"
"It's so good to see you, Gram." Hermione buried herself in another hug from her grandmother. Where once her cheek had rested against Berti's stomach, now it burrowed in her bosom thanks to Hermione's added height. It was almost bittersweet to have a child's arms gone, replaced by a young adult's that wrapped around her.
"I missed you at Christmas; it wasn't the same without you telling us where to put all the decorations. Just imagine, garland and lights all out of place."
Hermione laughed. "Oh, I missed you too, Gram, but I... well, Harry had a special school project he was working on during term, and I stayed to help him."
Berti looked up at the young man with glasses and unruly black hair who approached at a more casual pace alongside Miranda. From the corner of her eye, Berti saw Hermione's ginger cat Crookshanks slip out of the open car door and trot off into the nearest pasture, no doubt to prowl for prey. She focused instead on the young man she'd yet to meet.
"So this must be Harry."
Hermione withdrew from her grandmother's arms and turned to face the boy, who had come to a stop a few paces from the reunited pair. A Chihuahua was faithfully at his side, watching the goings-on with notable interest.
"Gram, Harry, Harry, my grandmum Berti."
"Ma'am," Harry said politely, hesitantly, then plowed on, "I hope you don't mind me here. Hermione said..."
"Oh, nonsense and pish-posh. 'Course I don't mind you staying over. This house is far too empty with just me; I'll be glad for the company. Besides, Miranda made it seem Hermione would not have come without you." Berti glanced up at her daughter and smiled. Miranda chuckled. Harry blushed, looked down, and toed the ground with his shoe. Hermione grunted resolutely, "I wouldn't've."
"Ah, young love," Berti sighed theatrically.
"Gram!" This time Hermione blushed and it brought a tiny smirk to Harry's lips, though it didn't bring up his head.
Berti kissed Hermione on the cheek. "Oh, dear, don't be so tightly wound. I'm only teasing. I think. Come in, the lot of you. Miri, please, I insist you stay at least for tea before starting back. We can talk while these two get settled."
Miranda smiled. "I'm not about to turn down your tea, Mum, it sounds wonderful."
Hermione knew just where to go in her grandmother's house. As she and Harry carried in their single suitcase apiece, she was giving Harry the abridged family history of the Richardson side of the family with strange segues into a home tour. "I'll stay in my mum's old room, you'll be in Uncle Ben's room. His name's actually Benedick, but we all call him Ben. He has a wife and three kids, though I've never met the youngest of the three. He lives in the states, so we don't see him much. I haven't seen Uncle Ben since I was nine. Our rooms will be right next to each other, with a bathroom on the opposite side of the hall. The hot water facet's on backwards, always has been, so you'll have to turn the hot tap the other way 'round. Oh! I'll have to show you the cove! Well, it's not really a cove, but when I was little it was my favorite place to go on Tiggy, it's absolutely wonderful..." Harry followed after Hermione, compliant and quiet, and Hermione's voice trailed off as the pair disappeared into the bowels of the house.
Berti carried two mugs to the breakfast nook table and fetched a kettle of hot tea. As she poured a cup for herself and her daughter she said, "How is Jake?"
"He's well. He was going to bring the kids up with me, but at the last minute a boy came in who'd knocked out his front tooth. Closest we have to a dental emergency, you could say."
"That's too bad. Give him my regards when you get back home." Berti sat down opposite her daughter and took a slow drink of tea. Miranda, too, spared a moment to enjoy the lemon-flavored sweet tea.
"Hermione's grown so much since the last time I saw her. Seems only yesterday she was learning to crawl."
"And shortly thereafter learning to read," Miranda laughed then shook her head. "I'm constantly astounded by how much older she is." Her voice dropped a fraction. "Especially this year. Hard to believe she's not my little baby anymore."
"I thought the same thing about you and Ben all the time. Sometimes I still do." Berti wrapped her hands around her warm mug and smiled wistfully to herself. "I'm glad Hermione's come to stay for a bit. I missed her over Christmas holiday ever so much. I look forward to spending some time with her."
"Well, you better go on ahead and include Harry too, in that time you'll be spending."
"Really?" Berti said with a playful twinkle in her eye.
Miranda nodded and scooted her mug over the table top idly. "Those two have been absolutely inseparable."
"You don't say... is our Hermione in love?"
Miranda smiled slowly and maternally... and a little sadly. "I don't think she knows she is. You know Hermione, stubborn as a bull."
Berti chuckled. "She got that from her grandfather. And does this bloke Harry deserve her?"
Miranda sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. "Well, no one will ever be good enough for Hermione, you know that, but Harry's a great kid, well, a great young man I should say. I confess I'm a bit taken with him. Of course, not as taken as Hermione... if he's her choice, I'll not take exception. He'll do."
"High praise then. Well, then it's just as well he came along this visit; if this boy Harry means to join the family I best get to know him."
A groan escaped Miranda's lips. "Oh, Mum, please don't heckle them."
"Would I do that, dear?"
"Are you kidding? If I had a pound for every time you embarrassed me in front of Jake while we were dating I wouldn't need to work."
"A mere test of his sincerity, my sweet Miri. If a little kind-hearted teasing sends him running for the hills, well, doesn't bode well for the future of the relationship, does it?"
"I'd be cautious. If you manage to send Harry running Hermione's just as likely to run with him."
"Oh really?"
"Inseparable, Mother. You'll see.
"I know you wanted to have some quality time alone with Hermione, but I doubt you'll find any reason to begrudge Harry's company. He is a perfectly courteous, polite young man. A gentleman even at his age, if you can believe it. I'm not sure about boyfriend or even future husband, but as far as a friend... Hermione could not have done better than Harry."
"It starts there, doesn't it?"
Miranda seemed to deflate with weariness and resignation. "Be gentle, Mum, I'm just not ready to see Hermione as anyone's wife."
Berti smiled sagaciously. "Yes, I know how that is."
Miranda pushed back from the table. "Well, I best be off. What with the children gone Jake and I were going to go out to dinner, so I should start back now so I don't get home too late. Assuming he's finished with that poor boy who knocked out his incisor, of course. Oh, and you shouldn't have to worry about keeping Hermione and Harry occupied, they've been pretty well independent this whole summer, keeping themselves busy and out of the way, don't see any reason why that would be any different here. And if Harry tries to cook for you, fair warning, it's well near impossible to dissuade him from it."
"Cook?" Berti faltered at the seeming non sequitur.
Miranda nodded, shrugged, and smiled. "He can get pretty pugnacious about it. Trust me, I've tried to talk him out of it, but he just won't have it. Makes lunch for Hermione and me every day back home despite my urgings not to trouble himself. I'd suggest you just relent and enjoy it, because he's a wonderful cook. I think it makes him feel less of an imposition if he's able to return some manner of favor for his stay. Let me see, is there anything else?" Miranda thought to herself.
Berti laughed and stood to see her daughter to the door. "I think I can figure out anything that might pop up. I have done this before, you know. Best run along so you and Jake can have a nice, romantic dinner."
Miranda gave her mother a hug, kissed her on the cheek, then went to the front door. At the threshold she paused and looked toward the hallway, as if debated whether or not she should tell Hermione and Harry goodbye, then turned and left the kids in her mother's care.
Chapter Twenty One
Original Author Notes -
A/N: After reading the reviews left by so many of you expressing your concern over the Harry/Hermione ship, I feel like I should throw you a bone. I don't really think it's a spoiler, because I categorized "Vox Corporis" under the H/Hr pairing. They do hook up. It will happen, never fear, just all in due time.
Early morning greeted the Richardson farmhouse with hints of gilded purple and gray. Dew hung heavy in the air and clung in crystal droplets to the grass. Hermione Granger stepped out the front door and took in a deep breath. A smile touched her lips. Behind her, his feet dragging and his mouth gaping in a yawn followed Harry. He rubbed at his eye underneath his glasses then ruffled a hand through his hair. Kimmy, in dog form, trotted out after them and took off, no doubt to survey the property and stake out any possible danger.
Harry came to a stop beside Hermione and grumbled, "Why'd we have to get up so early for this, again?"
Hermione turned to look at him and frowned. Not in disapproval, but disappointment. "For this," she pointed toward the meadowland that surrounded the house. Empty pastures with unnecessary fences marked where once the land had been home to several horses. Now they were empty plots of pasture with knee-high, sweet-smelling green grass. In one direction was the road, sparsely traveled at this hour, and in the other the pastureland rolled out into a tree line, the edges of a miniature forest. The early morning fog blanketed the ground, cast a mist that left the trees not so far away in shades of gray and added hazy miles so that they seemed impossibly far away.
Harry didn't see what was so impressive about it, kind of pretty but not earlyrising-worthy pretty, but when he glanced over at Hermione he accepted the only truth that mattered... it was impressive to Hermione. She was gazing out at the mist-laden grounds with a faint smile on her face. When she realized Harry was watching her she blushed. "When my mum and dad told me I was a witch, before I'd started at Hogwarts, I read about magic. I wanted to learn about myself, the part of me my parents couldn't teach me. In muggle literature, magic's almost entirely confined to Merlin and the age of courts and knights. I..." Hermione blushed even more fiercely, "I sort of romanticized it, I suppose. Before I knew what magic and wizards today are like, I used to imagine living in Merlin's era, and when I came to Gram's I'd get up really early and take Tiggy and head toward the woods, and I'd pretend I was heading through the mist to Avalon." Hermione turned her head aside to hide her embarrassment. "It's stupid, I know."
"No," Harry said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle even to his own ears. She looked warily at him, her face down-turned and eyes lifted to watch him. Harry felt sleep vanish and leave in its wake that damnable stomach flutter. He swallowed. "It's not stupid." Harry glanced up again at the foggy earth and realized that it was pretty. And behind those trees... well, from here it seemed there was no limit to the secrets they might hold. Maybe Merlin would be there. He glanced back at Hermione and smiled. "Thank you for showing me."
Hermione smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Come on, we'll get Tiggy and I'll show you the cove."
Harry eagerly followed Hermione.
She led them to a small barn with a fenced pen. At their approach a horse stuck its head out from around the building and pricked its ears forward curiously.
"Tig, Tig, Tiggy," Hermione called and started to climb the fence.
The horse snorted then came out from behind the barn and walked toward the girl. Harry came to a stop at the fence and hung back, content to watch.
The chestnut horse's only marking was a stripe down its face. Harry had far more experience with hippogriffs, and for a moment a horse's head on an equine body seemed abnormal.
Hermione and the horse reached one another and Hermione patted the animal's head and kissed it on the nose. She turned as she tangled her fingers in the animal's mane. "This is Antigone. She was my grandfather's calm, Gram always said. Tiggy was the most laid back, sweetest horse Gramp ever had. He used her a lot to keep higher strung horses calm. She had a sedating influence."
Tiggy snorted and her head drooped lazily. Hermione patted her neck. "When she was young, Tiggy used to be a competitive jumper. Never had the competitive spirit for it, sad to say she never won a single competition, but she won my gramp. Mum told me once she saw a lot of horses go through Agincourt but Tiggy was always here."
"Agincourt?"
Hermione smirked. "Oh... back when Gramp was training horses full time that's what the farm was called." Hermione shrugged. "Gramp loved Shakespeare."
"So that's where it comes from," Harry said with a smile.
Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around Tiggy's neck to give her a hug. The mare stood quietly, half-asleep.
"Come on in and say hi," Hermione bade Harry as she stepped toward the barn, "I'll fetch the bridle and we can head out."
Harry climbed over the fence and approached the horse. Tiggy flicked one ear forward to listen but otherwise did not stir. Harry came to a stop a few paces away from Tiggy and almost bowed. 'Not a hippogriff' he reminded himself and instead put his hands in his pockets and considered the dozing animal. "Um... hi, Antigone."
The mare took her weight off one of her back legs and crooked it, her entire hindquarters skewing as she closed her eyes.
Hermione came back with a bridle looped over her shoulder. Tiggy heard the jingle of the bit and her head came up, her ears shot forward, and her eyes opened alertly. She stood flat on all four legs and turned her head toward Hermione.
"That's a good girl, Tiggy," Hermione said as she slipped the bit between the horse's teeth and slid the leather over her ears. She fastened the throat latch strap, stepped toward the mare's withers, and pulled a brush from her back pocket and began to brush the place where the rider would sit. Tiggy mouthed the bit and shifted on her feet.
"Stand still, Tiggy, Harry, could you hold her?"
Harry stepped closer and gathered up the dangling reins. Tiggy seemed to pay attention to him for the first time and nipped at his fingers. Hermione brushed both sides of Tiggy's barrel and back then pushed her own hair back from her face. "There, that should do. I'll give her a proper rub-down once we get back."
"Who will I ride?" Harry asked and looked around the pen for another horse.
"We'll have to double up on Tiggy. When Gramp died Gram sold all the horses at the Court. She would have sold Tiggy, too, Gram was never one much for horses, but she said Gramp would roll over in his grave if he knew Tiggy was sold off. She's the only one left. It'll be okay, though, Tiggy's wellbehaved; she won't fret at having us both on her. But here, best take her to the fence so we can mount more easily." Harry relinquished the reins and stepped out of the way while Hermione led the mare over to the fence.
When Harry caught up with Hermione at the fence she was standing very still, eyes glossy and her fingers tangled in the mare's mane. "Hermione?"
Hermione blinked, looked at Harry, at Antigone, then said, "Hold on just a moment," then scrambled over the fence and ran toward the house. Harry, baffled, stood dumbly beside the horse while Tiggy eyed him, as though sizing him up and trying to decide how much he'd weigh when he got on her.
Hermione came hurrying back from the house with a pair of scissors in her hand. She climbed back over the fence, came around to Tiggy's side, and cut off a small lock of the mare's golden brown mane. Hermione stuck the scissors through her side belt loop and studied the section of coarse horse hair between her fingers. She dug into her pocket and withdrew her crumpled marble bag. Without a word she stuffed the horse hair inside and stuffed the bag back into the depths of her pocket.
Harry didn't have to ask. It seemed the token process of becoming an animagus was most difficult on that first token. Once they knew what it felt like, and how they were to get there, it became much easier. They were learning to trust their feelings when a token presented itself. They were becoming more skilled at reaching the necessary meditative state to open themselves to noticing tokens around them. And because they were both aware of the nature of tokens, and the importance of abandoning human initiative and pride when hunting them, it was not strange for one or the other of them to drop what they were doing to go after a leaf or stick or pebble. They were wise enough not to attempt a token of their own just because the other did.
Hermione threw the reins over Tiggy's neck and wedged herself between the mare and fence. With a quick climb she was able to throw one leg over the horse's back and position herself behind Tiggy's withers. She gathered up the reins and stilled Tiggy. "Come on, Harry."
Harry relented and uncertainly squeezed himself between the fence and the horse. As Hermione had done, he climbed half-way up the fence then turned to consider the horse's bare back, Hermione's legs draped on either side, Hermione herself half-turned to await him. He extended one leg over the far side of the horse's broad back then fell into place behind Hermione. The slope of the mare's back caused Harry to slide forward until he was pressed solidly to Hermione. Harry tensed.
Hermione was heedless. "Comfortable?" she asked cheerfully.
"Uh..."
Hermione clucked her tongue and urged Tiggy forward with a gentle hug of her calves. The mare snorted and started forward. At the pen gate Hermione unlatched and opened it from horseback then maneuvered Tiggy through.
"This was always my favorite part of visiting Gram and Gramp's," Hermione said aloud, clearly enjoying herself.
"Uh huh," Harry muttered as his body, and Hermione's, swayed with the motion of the horse. "So, if you knew how to ride before, why didn't you like Buckbeak? I just assumed you were frightened being on him."
Hermione snorted. "Because of the flying. And he wasn't a horse, so it's different. And he was pretty much feral, I don't care what Hagrid says, no telling what he'd do. I trust Tiggy."
It was Hermione-logic and Harry knew better than to argue with it. "Oh. Well, then, on to Avalon."
Hermione laughed, a light, care-free, wonderful laugh, and Harry's heart lodged in his throat. Hermione pointed them in the direction of the trees and set Tiggy to an unrushed walk.
There was an occasional flash of tan in the green grass as Kimmy darted about, close enough to rush in if danger presented itself. She didn't stay steady at their side, fading into the fog and slipping into the grass taller than she, but it seemed there was no threat from Death Eaters here. Tiggy plodded through the grass toward the trees that had seemed an adventure away. Occasionally she turned her head to the side to nip at long bits of grass within reach for a quick snack. The sun was still making a weak showing, barely laying a film of light over the layers of fog that hovered in their path.
Hermione barely seemed to guide the mare; it was as though Tiggy knew this trek as well as Hermione did. She sat astride her childhood mount and seemed completely at ease.
Harry was not. The full length of Hermione's back was pressing against his front. Her hair was tickling his face, taunting his nose with the smell of her shampoo and that scent purely Hermione. Her legs were right there, along the inside of his thighs, and her bum was...
Harry tried subtly shifting back on the horse but it seemed the most he could manage was a bare inch or two, and even that had a tendency to disappear. Tiggy's rocking gait would surely slide him down again until he was once more pressed up against Hermione. Harry squirmed and shifted again.
He came up against Hermione again, and at the exact moment that she repositioned herself on the horse. Her behind wriggled against his crotch. 'Bloody hell,' Harry thought in misery, and he blushed, mortified, and hurriedly tried shifting away again when his recurring early morning foe started making an appearance.
Hermione glanced to the side at Kimmy as the dog bounded through a thicket of weeds then was lost again in the sea of grass. Harry was fighting to hold himself out of contact with Hermione. He slid forward again. Her body touched his, thighs and back and bum, and Harry's problem intensified. He scrambled back again, tensed against the rhythm of the horse that insisted on pushing him into Hermione.
'Oh, shit, don't think that,' Harry thought and tried once more to lever backward on the horse using the animal's hindquarters for purchase. Bloody horses. He tried to think of Snape, in drag, snogging Voldemort. He slid forward again and Hermione was again cradled between his thighs. He pulled away quickly. Ron in Hermione's Yule Ball gown dancing with Viktor Krum.
That was no good, it made Harry think of Hermione in that dress. This was becoming the most tortuous morning he could imagine. Hermione and her bloody great idea to ride to bloody Avalon. The trees looked an unmanageable distance away, even further than they'd seemed from the house.
Hermione only then seemed to notice Harry was writhing in pure agony behind her. "Harry, are you all right?" she asked and tried looking over her shoulder at him.
Tiggy took a misstep and lurched. She quickly recovered her stride, no one was unseated, and the mare immediately seemed to forget she'd stumbled, but it thrust Harry unceremoniously and tightly to Hermione's back. Involuntarily, when he thought for an instant they might fall, he grabbed her hips. Hermione gave a small squeak and stopped breathing.
'Kill me now,' Harry thought. No way she wasn't feeling that.
"Um..." Hermione was flustered and finally a fraction of the degree of uncomfortable Harry had been since the start. Harry was certain his face was beet red with embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry," Harry said miserably and removed his hands from her hips. Was there even any point trying to shift back? Hermione knew he was sporting a stiffy from their nice, friendly little ride at grandma's house.
Tiggy, unaware of the small saga aboard her, walked on, her body swaying and causing Harry and Hermione to rock with her. Harry clenched his eyes shut and blood drummed in his ears. The horrible part was, as much as he was mortified, part of him was really, really giddy at the predicament. That evil southern part of him. That and there was a voice in his head telling him he ought to enjoy it, because his nether-regions were, and it seemed such a shame to miss out. That voice, that excitement, was damnably loud and frighteningly persuasive.
Hermione was speechless. Harry would make a note of the feat that was later. At the moment, he was really concerned about that pair of sharp scissors still in her belt loop.
Finally, she spoke. "It's..." Hermione's voice was thin and cracked and she stopped to clear her throat. "It's okay."
Harry's hips rolled with the horse's body movement, rocked against Hermione's rear, and it really, really didn't help. "Huh?" He'd been expecting more along the lines of 'it's disgusting, it's vile, go to hell, Harry, and stick it in a wall socket on your way.'
Hermione forced a casual tone. "Well, you know, you're a teenage boy, after all, and I'm a girl, and we're sitting rather close... it's just a physiological response, nothing more."
Harry stared at the back of her head. Was she barking?
"Maybe I should walk..."
"Don't be silly, it's fine. It's just... there. No reason to be immature about it."
Harry was finding breathing a little difficult. "You just want to, what... ignore it?"
"Precisely."
Harry choked on his tongue. "I don't know that I can."
"Honestly, Harry. If you're that uncomfortable you can walk, but I'm not going to make a big deal out of it, so don't feel like you have to get down on my account."
'There you go, permission, enjoy it,' Harry's baser half proclaimed with ecstatic triumph.
"O-okay," Harry stuttered and tentatively, as though he expected it to burn, he let himself come to rest against her and didn't fight to pull away. He relaxed as much as was possible under the circumstances. His mind was reeling, blood pounding and redirecting and leaving him incapable of coherent thought. He watched for Hermione to react, to call him a pervert and kick him off the horse, he waited for that prefect Hermione note of disgust in her voice. She didn't say a thing. She honestly did ignore it.
They were coming up on the woods that had teased from afar what seemed an age ago, before Harry's torment had begun. Hermione rocked with the horse's gait, nestled between his thighs, tucked against his chest, and Harry's 'physiological response' only got worse with every unbearable second. And Hermione would feel it, pressed against her bum, pushing against her with every sway. Was she mad? Ignore this? Easy for her to say, she wasn't the one pegged a sex fiend.
It was just supposed to be a damn ride on a horse. Bloody ruddy hell.
They were weaving between trees, meandering through the forest, and it was taking for-bloody freaking-ever. Harry felt a tight coiling in the pit of his stomach, building, swelling, working its way downward...
"Stop, stop, stop," Harry finally said in desperation, sweat beading on his upper lip.
Hermione pulled the mare up. "What's wrong?"
"I need to get off," Harry said in a tense voice.
Hermione whimpered.
"Oh hell, I meant off the horse." As in now.
"Oh, are you... going to..." Hermione stammered.
"Merlin, can we not talk about it?!" Harry snapped and closed his eyes. And he definitely, definitely was.
Hermione's voice was strangely hoarse when she said in a near-whisper, "We're nearly there, can you... hold it?"
Harry managed something between a snort and a mad laugh. "It's not exactly like needing to go to the loo, Mione."
Hermione jolted... and it rocked her against him. 'Ruddy bloody fucking hell,' Harry cursed as he fidgeted, did his best not to writhe, god he wanted to move against her. Damn, he needed to get away from her this instant.
"Harry..." she said, her voice low, sultry... sexy. Harry groaned and snapped. He reached past her, braced one hand on the mare's withers, leaned into Hermione's back, his free arm circled her waist with a mind of its own, and he clenched his eyes shut and lost it. A half grunt, half sigh spilled over Hermione's shoulder from his lips and he shuddered against her, released against her.
After he was spent Harry took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and noticed Hermione, pliable in his arms, breathing fast. He loosened his hold on her waist and dropped his head to rest his forehead against her shoulder. He groaned again, this time in misery. "Fuck, Hermione... I'm sorry." He'd never felt so vile in all his life, even when Voldemort's presence was surging through him.
Hermione was again speechless. Harry was going for some kind of record. She straightened and brushed at her hair. "Are you... good now?"
Harry gave a strangled snort into her shoulder and reluctantly brought up his head where she might be able to see his face. "You're joking, right?"
Hermione didn't respond.
Harry was stunned. "Hermione! I just²"
"It's okay, Harry."
"Okay?!" How the hell was your best friend getting off on you, only a shade shy of dry humping you, anywhere near okay?
"The cove's just up ahead," Hermione said and urged Tiggy onward.
Harry took a turn at being speechless. He stared at the back of her head and didn't even notice where they were until Hermione had the horse at a stop and turned her profile to him. "This is it."
"What?"
"The cove."
Harry looked around. It was a pond. Not even that, barely bigger than the prefect's bath. It was ringed by trees and patches of grass. It might have been lovely but Harry was stuck in the twilight zone.
Hermione crossed one of her legs over Tiggy's neck and dropped down to the ground. Harry stared down at her but Hermione seemed to make it a point not to look at him as she held the reins loosely and gazed about at her childhood retreat. "I remember it being bigger than this."
Harry, still watching Hermione as warily as one might a rabid dog, dismounted and dropped to the ground beside her. Finally Hermione looked at him. Her face was strangely flushed, her eyes bright, almost feverishly bright, but her smile was regular old Hermione. "Of course, I used to bring books here and read for hours. Sometimes I read about Merlin and Camelot, but really it was just anything. I liked being alone out here with just Tiggy for company. I could be anything here.
"I've never shown this to anyone, not even Gram or Mum. They must know it's here, but I like to pretend I'm the only one who knows about it. My own Avalon."
Hermione stepped away from Harry and he watched after her, thunderstruck and dumbfounded, as she calmly tied Tiggy to a branch a hanging low enough that she could reach the grass to graze. Hermione turned, lifted her chin to the morning air, and closed her eyes. And she smiled that enchanted, wondrous smile from earlier that morning.
Harry's gut clenched.
Hermione moved to the water's edge and toed at a stone.
Harry walked over to the base of a tree, a carpet of soft fresh grass beneath it, and sat down. He looked down in disdain at his lap and scowled at the wet spot in the front of his jeans. With a groan of despair he laid down flat on his back, removed his glasses with one hand, and threw his other arm over his eyes.
He could hear Tiggy tearing grass with her teeth and the softer sounds of Hermione moving around... then he startled when he heard her drop down beside him. Harry didn't really want to look, was afraid of what he'd find, but he moved his arm just enough to look at Hermione over the crook of his elbow. She was sitting close beside him, like nothing had happened and it was just Harry and Hermione hanging out under the beech tree at Hogwarts. Harry took his arm away from his face, let it rest on the ground over his head, and fixed his unfocused eyes on the canopy. "Hermione..."
"Don't worry about it, Harry. I'm not mad."
"You should be."
"Why?" Hermione looked mildly over at him.
Harry looked quickly at her, needed to read her expression, and put his glasses back on. She was watching him calmly, maybe a little troubled, but she really wasn't angry.
"Hermione... we're friends, and I..."
"Exactly. We're friends. And you didn't do it on purpose, and I told you before, it's just a physiological response, you're a teenage boy in a compromising situation, it's practically to be expected."
"Oh, so if it were Ron you'd say the same thing?" Harry retorted.
For a second Harry thought she was finally going to hit him. She glowered at him, set her jaw, and looked sharply away. Harry's indignation fled. He'd unintentionally hurt her, just like Ron would have, and the wounded look on her face bled all the fire out of his anger.
Harry sat up and debated touching her. In the end, he figured he shouldn't. "I'm sorry, Mione, I shouldn't have said that."
Hermione's expression softened and she looked back at him. "You... that's the second time you've done that."
"Done what?" Harry asked, confused.
The corners of Hermione's mouth curved up in a small, private smile. It made Harry's hair stand on end. "Called me 'Mione'."
"Oh..."
"I like it," Hermione said shyly.
Harry smiled, despite himself. "I'll remember that."
Hermione shifted closer to him and Harry held his breath. But the world didn't explode and Tiggy kept on chomping away busily at the grass a short distance away. Dawn slowly seeped into the cove, Hermione's Avalon, and Harry began to appreciate why Hermione would love this spot so much. It was a world away from both worlds they'd tried to fit into. He could stop trying to be anything here, the Boy Who Lived or the freak of Privet Drive. He was the place between the tree and between the water, the being atop the grass, and under the leaves, the creature that lounged with another at his side... another with lustrous, wild brown hair that fluttered in the breeze, that danced around her face, tickled his skin, teased his senses, called to his fingers. Called to him.
Harry turned to Hermione, her hair loose and free, and blinked.
Hermione looked at him. "What?"
Harry considered her a moment, then leaned in. Hermione gasped and held still as he moved toward her. Harry reached across her, slipped the scissors from her belt loop, and sat back. Hermione looked down at them in confusion then up into his eyes.
Harry brought up his free hand and caught a segment of her eternally untamed hair. He glanced at her hesitantly. "May I?"
Hermione's eyes widened when she understood. She nodded.
Harry cut off a lock of hair and came away with his token. He studied the brown-gold collection of hairs, rolled them between his fingers in wonder at the softness, the Hermioneness in their magic, the magic imprint singing true of his best friend, then he fished his own marble bag from his pocket. He added his newest prize and looked again at Hermione. She seemed astounded, strangely honored, to have been chosen. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair as though to find where he'd taken from her.
Harry handed her back the scissors and she wordlessly accepted them. Then the moment was gone and it was almost as though it had not happened. "Thanks for bringing me to Avalon," Harry said after a long pause.
"We can come back," Hermione said, her voice disjointed, dreamy, half-way lost in her own meditative state, the way they'd mastered slipping into nature's magical presence.
Harry grunted. "But we should probably walk next time."
"Why?" Hermione asked in an almost sing-song voice as she lay back on the forest floor, gaze full of trees and sky.
He couldn't believe she'd even ask. "Because what happened earlier could happen again." "So it happens. No worries, Harry." Hermione spread her fingers in the grass and shut her eyes gently, as though in sleep. It was unnatural the way Hermione could honestly make him stop worrying when he had a world of reasons that he should.
By the end of their two week stay at Roberta Richardson's home, Harry had a short-list of things he was not going to miss. And as much as he liked Hermione's grandmother, she was number one on it. From all the questions she asked him, questions that had no answer, she had to think he was a mumbling idiot physically incapable of normal speech. She was kind enough, had a real zinger of a sense of humor, but gods was the woman good at asking horribly uncomfortable odd-ball questions. Why would she ask him what he thought was the proper amount of time to date a girl before kissing her? She was the wise, experienced older lady, shouldn't she have her own answer to that? Why ask an almost fifteen-year-old boy who'd never dated in his life? And what did he think was Hermione's most difficult to tolerate pet peeve? Like he was going to tell her that with Hermione sitting right there! Did that mean he thought she was perfect? Well, no, who's perfect? There were a few trigger words: 'wedding', 'marriage', 'baby', and 'fiancé' that sent Harry running. Sometimes just out the room, sometimes out of the house entirely. And he tried to tell himself she was a lonely widow who merely missed her dead husband, that she'd dwell on such things remembering her dear lost spouse, but still! He was not going to miss that.
But he would miss Avalon. Every morning he and Hermione would get up early when the sun was still on the cusp of the horizon, climb up on Antigone, and set off for the misty woods.
He would miss the ride most of all. It took him days to confess that dirty secret to himself, but once he did there seemed to be no going back. Hermione had not been talked into making the journey to the cove on foot, so it was every morning that they rode.
Harry's 'physiological response' had become an unmentionable between them, the metaphorical white elephant between Harry's legs and pressed to Hermione's bum. Some mornings it was just a firm hello. They'd reach the cove and Harry would lie in the grass beside Hermione with tented jeans and it would eventually go away on its own. They didn't acknowledge it, and after the first two times it was no longer unfathomably strange for Hermione to lie next him and talk to him like normal when he had that going on in his pants. She was wonderfully understanding in that respect.
Other mornings Harry's hormones took over, as Hermione would say. The rocking would be too much, and Hermione's hips and thighs and back would be too much, and sometimes it would even depend on the kind of dreams Harry had had the night before. Sometimes he lost control.
And oh, those days... a very guilty, dirty part of Harry, very much the teenage boy part of Harry, liked those mornings best. Because Hermione would let him slip his arm around her stomach and hug her against him. She'd let him lean forward into her, let him bury his face in her hair. Sometimes, when he was brave enough, she let him rock against her. Just once, because it was just a physical reaction, just enough to ride the explosion out. And she never held it against him. Harry's adolescent brain became quickly addicted to being able to do that. Sometimes he was up an hour before dawn, eagerly awaiting their morning ride, already physically excited at the promise of her slender body rocking against him.
It was probably just as well it was their last day at Berti's, because any more time for that conditioning to do its work on his mind and he might start getting hard at the sight of a horse and that would be so hard to explain, no pun intended.
It had become his exquisite torture. Enduring the moments up to his hormones taking over, or even worse... the days when he controlled himself. When there was no release, no culmination. When he had to lie in the grass or sit talking to Hermione or wander the cove with a hard, heavy aching. Sometimes he'd ache so much he wanted to scream. But if he didn't lose it on horseback he didn't finish off. The first day he had excused himself and slipped behind a tree, fully intent on wanking off to rid himself of that maddening ache... but he didn't. He'd rested his forehead against the tree trunk, curled his fingers so tightly into the bark that it hurt... but he didn't reach into his pants. Somehow, if he did nothing, it was more honest to Hermione. She excused him an obscene crime because it was a body function... he couldn't help it. But if he wanked off... that was helping it. That was some amorphous line he wouldn't cross. He told himself when it went that far, when he started polishing the wand, it would become an insult to Hermione's generosity. That was not ignoring it, and Hermione's gift to him had been to let it be.
And his concession to her... he let her look. When he didn't lose control of his hormones and arrived at the cove looking quite the horny pervert, he didn't call Hermione out when he caught her glancing. She was curious. He figured after she'd ridden with it poking her in the back she was entitled. When she realized he knew she was stealing glances, and wasn't upset with her for it, she began looking openly. She'd be looking him in the eye and having a conversation with him and her eyes would drop and she'd momentarily lose her train of thought. Harry didn't say anything to her when she looked. But even that was a bit selfish, because her eyes on his crotch stirred feral, indescribable things in him. He was always torn between bashful, embarrassed, and...liking it. And something in the way Hermione's lips would part when she stole a glance, the way her eyes darkened and skin flushed and breathing changed... it quickened in his blood.
And they never said a bloody word about any of it.
Like now. Their last morning in the cove. Miranda was coming to pick them up around noon, so they couldn't stay long. Much to Harry's chagrin, the last morning excursion hadn't ended up being one of the times when his hormones took over. He'd been close, unbearably close, but right before he might have snaked his arm around Hermione to draw her back against him for the finale they were there and Hermione was sliding off the horse.
Tiggy was tied across the water, grazing as always. Kimmy was nowhere to be seen, but at Berti's she'd made a unique habit of being there without being seen. Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him, the heavy black spell book open in her lap. Harry hadn't even known she'd brought it until he saw her with it that morning... she'd kept it that well hidden lest Berti find it. She was reading quietly and Harry was reclined back against a tree trunk with an impressive 'physiological response' making his jeans wretchedly uncomfortable. Though he pretended he was perfectly comfortable, because in his pretend world he didn't have a problem. He was riding out the ache, that sweet torment, with the cause and reason less than a foot away acting like there was nothing amiss.
Yes... Harry would miss this.
Hermione looked up from her book, turned to him, but before her eyes could lock on his face they stopped on his bulge. She blinked and fleetingly licked her lips. Harry's heart skipped and the ache wrapped tighter.
She pulled her eyes away to meet his gaze, "Harry... you've tokened well over ten, right?"
Harry thought a moment. "Thirteen so far, why?"
Hermione pivoted on the grass to more directly face him. "Soon as we get back to Hogwarts I think we can start the next phase of the animagus transformation."
"Which is what?"
"A potion to bind the token magic to the witch or wizard. I discussed it with Kimmy last night, and it seems well the easiest part of the process. According to Kimmy, the individual magic of each object is only sporadically connected to the greater magical energy in nature... the way the tokens jump out at us in flashes and we don't feel them all the time. We'll need to bind them together and to us. We won't be able to try the actual spell for the first transformation until the first full moon once we're back anyway, so that will give us time to brew the potion."
"Why a full moon? We're not turning into werewolves."
"No, but the lunar cycle has a very powerful influence on animals. Our inner animals will be more easily awakened under a full moon."
"Are we supposed to have a certain number of tokens to do it?" Harry asked, his groin aching terribly as they talked over it.
"The more the better, but it can't be done with less than five. We have to be able to form a pentagram with the objects. I counted mine and I have six, so I can just move on to the next step. And who knows, by summer's end I might have more.
"There is a spell you'll have to learn before we make our first attempt." Harry scowled.
Hermione smirked. "Really, Harry, did you think you'd manage an accomplishment such as this without some work?"
"Hoped so," Harry corrected.
Hermione chuckled and flipped through the book's pages. "Although chronic avoidance of effort makes me wonder if there'll be a post back from Ron by the time we get home."
"Maybe. Wish I could have seen Ron's face when Hedwig showed up black as midnight when I sent her to stay at the Burrow for our two weeks here."
"I'd be surprised if Ron noticed," Hermione put the book aside, rolled over, and lay on her stomach with her arms folded under her chin. Her roll brought her into the barest of contact with Harry's outer thigh. Sweet, sweet torture. When she closed her eyes and turned her head to the side it moved her hair aside so that Harry could see her shoulder. Her shirt collar was skewed and pulled over just enough for him to see her bikini tan-line. He glanced down at his forearms and had to admit he'd never seen them look anything less than pasty before now.
"When I was little," Hermione mumbled, eyes still shut, "I imagined I'd build a house here, right in the cove. Not that one would actually fit, but I pretended that it would."
"A little small-scale castle to be your Camelot?" Harry teased.
Hermione smiled without opening her eyes. "Something like that."
"Sounds nice."
"You ever dream of where you'd live when you grew up?"
"Not really. Just dreamed of anywhere but the Dursleys'."
"Hmm..." Hermione hummed under her breath.
"Most of my dreams back then were that my parents were never killed and I could be living with them."
Hermione frowned faintly, eyes still shut. "And now?"
Harry thought a moment. "It hasn't really changed much."
Hermione was silent for a time, looking very much asleep, then she murmured, "We need to do this at Hogwarts when we go back."
"Do what?"
"Talk."
"We talked before."
"Not like we do now."
Harry had to concede that to her. "We will."
"Good," she took a deep breath and exhaled through her mouth. She was utterly still a moment, looking so blissfully content and peaceful, then a look of hazy concentration fixed on her features. She opened her eyes and glanced up at Harry searchingly. In one smooth motion she rose to her knees and knelt before him, gaze intent. Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.
Hermione reached into her bookbag and pulled out the pair of small scissors they'd taken to bringing along with them, after they had proved so useful that first time. She regarded him a moment, started toward him and halted, fidgeted, then asked, "May I?"
Harry realized what she meant. "Yeah." Hermione leaned over him, plucked at his hair, chose with care, and snipped. Her hand came away with a small pinch of black hairs between her fingers. She stared at them, blinked, then smiled up at Harry. "Seven," she said then retrieved her marble bag and added Harry's lock of hair.
"Did you know we could token off each other?" he asked as she shoved the small bag, lumpy and misshapen from its contents, back into her pocket. "
Honestly, no... I wouldn't think we're animal enough to count. But we can't ignore a token." She checked her watch. "Oh, we'd better head back."
Hermione stuffed the book in the bookbag she'd brought along and went over to Tiggy. Harry stood, a little awkwardly since he was still at attention down below. There was a pair of tree stumps on the far side of the small pond, one half the size of the other, that served as perfect steps to be able to mount Tiggy. It suggested that Hermione was right that she was far from the first in her family to adopt this sanctuary, but they didn't mention the convenience of the stumps. Harry picked up the bag and walked around the water. When he reached Hermione and Tiggy, Hermione was already mounted and waiting. Harry handed her the bag, scaled the two stumps, and got on to the horse behind her. His physiological response ached anew, nestled warmly between their bodies, hers of particular interest.
"Oh," Hermione said suddenly, "I don't remember if I marked the page I was on or not." She dropped the reins to rest across Tiggy's neck and fished into the black bag. She shifted forward as she pulled out the book, shifted back as she opened its cover, repositioned herself behind Tiggy's withers as she tried to read on horseback.
Harry was slipping. The pressure that had gone unvented, left to simmer, was building again. Hermione shifted as she transferred the book from one hand to another, leaned forward to pat Tiggy when the mare snorted...
Harry shifted forward. That familiar, racing tingle threatened sheer insanity from every corner. Hermione bent forward to scratch at her shin then straightened and repositioned herself again, her eyes fixed on the pages of the book.
Harry's heart was hammering in his chest. He slowly reached around Hermione and wrapped his arm around her waist. Hermione gave a small jump that rocked her back against him, "Oh, yes, I did mark it."
Harry tightened his hold on her, hugged her tight against him, leaned into her just as his control was flaying, and with his head on her shoulder, face tucked into her hair, he rubbed up against her once, deeply. And with a rush of breath released into her hair, he trembled and climaxed. He clutched her as he guaranteed he'd be washing another pair of jeans, then he sighed and loosened his hold.
Hermione was breathing quickly, and with his head on her shoulder he could see the book she held shaking... a split second before she sighed and slammed the book shut. She shoved it quickly into her bag and draped the shoulder strap over her head. "Well, best get back." She took up the reins and commanded Tiggy forward, away from Avalon. Harry didn't think to remove his arm from around her waist until halfway back to the barn.