For the first time, the corridors of Hogwarts failed to become Lia's personal display rack.
For the entire day, she was like a cat that had been wronged, deliberately maintaining an arm's length of safety from Hermione.
When they passed each other, that long, fluffy tail would even flick to the other side as if in a huff.
Harry and Ron looked at each other in bewilderment; this was more bizarre than Snape announcing that Gryffindor had won the House Cup.
The truth was, the "settling of accounts" in the bathroom last night had completely spiraled out of control.
Hermione had clearly underestimated her own possessiveness after being teased all day, and overestimated the delicacy of Lia's skin in her Cat-girl form.
She hadn't controlled her strength well and ended up hurting the Cat-girl.
The result was Lia bristling her fur and avoiding her all day, even only giving the Dried Fish Hermione offered a sniff before turning her head away, using the back of her head to express her displeasure.
It wasn't until evening, when Hermione went to the kitchen herself (with the help of the House-elves) and brought back a plate of top-grade salmon—drizzled with honey gravy and roasted until crispy on the outside and tender on the inside—that she managed to coax back the little cat, whose pouting mouth and tail tip were in silent protest.
Lia ate the fish in small bites while stealing glances at Hermione.
One day, she would definitely defeat the evil Hermione! Let her taste being bullied too! Let her beg for mercy too!
However, the sweetness of reconciliation didn't last long before a problem more intense than Baruffio's Brain-Sharpening Potion hit them.
An owl that looked shifty and rat-like dropped a roll of parchment onto their table in an almost crude manner, delivering an official document from the Ministry of Magic.
The content was cold and bureaucratic: Given the special nature of the "atypical intelligent creature" Lia's enrollment at the school, the Ministry of Magic would conduct a mandatory academic year assessment. If she failed to reach the "Pass" standard in any subject, her "student" status would be immediately revoked, and she would be "taken over" by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for a comprehensive "ability definition and risk assessment."
At the end of the document was a scrawled and malicious countersignature: Lucius Malfoy.
Retribution had come so quickly.
In Hermione's mind, cold words like "take over" and "assessment" were instantly and automatically translated into "imprisonment," "dissection," and "live experimentation."
Thus, Hermione naturally took charge of tutoring the "problem student."
In the girls' dormitory, Hermione felt an unprecedented sense of despair. She watched a feather on the table, which did not float up light as air under the tip of Lia's magic wand as expected.
On the contrary, the feather first gently emitted a rainbow-colored halo, then curled up elegantly from the base, transforming into a butterfly that landed lightly on the mouth of the ink bottle.
Lia's magic was full of primal vitality, defying all established rules.
Her will was naturally directed toward "creating life" rather than "changing form." Asking her to turn a piece of dragon liver into a precisely measured Potion was harder than getting Snape to smile at Harry.
"Merlin's medical-grade silicone finger stalls..." Hermione held her forehead, looking at the "butterfly" flying all over the room, feeling a deep sense of powerlessness.
But Hermione Granger never gave up. She took a deep breath, a raging fighting spirit igniting in her eyes.
For the next few days, she practically pinned Lia to a seat in the library.
Fortunately, theory classes were no problem for Lia; that little head's memory was nothing short of terrifying. Hermione practically broke the books down and mashed them up, feeding them to her bit by bit. From the dates of the Goblin Rebellions in History of Magic to the synergy and antagonism of different materials in Potions, Lia had a photographic memory.
In the end, Lia's report card was so bizarre that Professor McGonagall had to double-check it several times: the practical operations for Charms Class, Transfiguration, and Potions were a disastrous "D (Dreadful)," but all the theoretical written exams were a straight "A (Acceptable)" or better. The overall evaluation was a pass for everything.
Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses, looking at the exhausted but determined Hermione and Lia behind her—who was curiously staring at her quill, wondering if she could turn it into a living thing. A rare curve appeared at the corner of her mouth as she finally wrote in the comments: "It seems that in terms of teaching special students, Miss Granger is more suited to be a teacher than we are."
Hermione held that hard-won report card, feeling as if she'd spent half her life on it, but when she saw Lia standing safely by her side, it was all worth it.
On the return journey of the Hogwarts Express, the smoke of the exams finally cleared.
Inside the compartment, Harry was facing a small, old mirror, talking excitedly in a low voice with Sirius inside about summer plans. Ron was boastfully bragging about the Quidditch World Cup with spit flying everywhere.
Hermione, however, was unusually quiet. She wasn't reading, but just leaning against the window, using her fingertips to extremely gently comb through the Cat-girl's long silver hair on her lap. Sunlight fell on her bushy brown hair, plating it with a layer of warm gold. Her thoughts drifted far away.
Vacation... where should she take Lia to play? A magical market in France? Or a Muggle holiday beach to let her see the ocean? No, the seaside was too crowded; what if Lia's ears and tail were seen by Muggles and caused a commotion... or simply go nowhere and just stay at home? That seemed too unfair to her.
And... she probably wouldn't be able to help herself and would keep her in bed all summer.
The movement of her fingertips paused slightly, and Hermione's cheeks felt a bit hot.
Lia, on her lap, keenly sensed her emotional fluctuations. She instantly transformed from a drowsy cat into human form, squeezing tightly between her and the compartment wall, her warm, soft body pressed close against her.
Lia turned her head, those sky-blue eyes staring fixedly at Hermione, their noses almost touching. She didn't ask anything, but just reached out her arms, hugging Hermione's arm like a koala, and gently rubbed her snowy-white cheek against her side profile.
"As long as Hermione is here, it's best."
That soft, sweet voice carried complete trust and satisfaction, instantly smoothing out all the irritability and planning in Hermione's heart.
Yes, what was she anxious about? Hermione's heart completely softened. To Lia, where they went or what they did never mattered. What mattered was who she was with.
Lia didn't speak again. Her long, fluffy tail, however, began to move restlessly, quietly reaching out like a living scarf, wrapping around Hermione's waist, and finally winding around her gently with an indisputable sense of possession.
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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