Grey Kittens

Obligatory blah blah blah

I do not now, nor have I ever and only will if I'm the last person on Earth (at which point the whole concept of rights, royalties and responsibility, etc. . . becomes moot, to say the least) own Harry Potter or the characters therein, they belong to J. K. Rowling; I'm just playing with them.

Warning, Deus Ex Machina Ahead:

Sexual Revolution ((young adult + intelligence – inhibition) / opportunity) = unbelievable accepting & understanding parents

Yeah, I'm cheating; it's something I'll have to live with: it's the only way the first arch of this chapter makes sense . . . even a little; when it comes to Daniel and Emma (the non-canonical canonical names of Hermione's parents) Granger. They were rather naughty in their youth, at least according to Animekitty2; much to Hermione's surprise but most children don't want to know such things about their parents: it's icky.

Mutterings of a Mad Mind, (AKA Author's notes):

Wow, I never thought this would be out before my next chapter of 'Heirs' but the next chapter of 'Heirs' is pivotal; I needed to remain fully focused on that to handle it correctly. This chapter of 'Kittens' refused to stop buzzing in my head so I completed it first.

As I said in my notes, last chapter: this chapter ventures into crossover territory in its final arch. The other worlds are, Negima! Magister Negi Magi and Dance in the Vampire Bund (see end notes for accreditation). This was actually very nostalgic to write, as it revisits my first fan-fiction attempts. In order to avoid horrible and costly crossover continuity errors I had to reread 'A Rainyday Tale' and cringe from time to time when I realized I had not handled an event as well as I could have. I also spotted a few other annoying errors (i.e: wrong words, typos, etc . . .). I was a little melancholy when I finished—I wanted more, an awkward feeling when you're the writer—all that I had posted to that story. It never really garnered a lot of attention or followers so I lost motivation and it became almost a chore to write. Life got complicated too I suppose. Anyways, I think I've managed to recap it well to avoid ye olde 'What the f**k?' questions that commonly happen in crossovers. Obviously, the details are in 'A Rainyday Tale' if you're so inclined. Both the Negima and the Dance elements became intended elements shortly after I began writing Grey Kittens and realized they allowed a context and framework for Hermione's secondary goal, which is to get the hell out of Magical England.

Therefore, without further ado but for a couple warnings, I present the next and rather long (sprawling might be more accurate) installment of Grey Kittens. Please enjoy.

Warning:

This story is rated 'M' and is intended for mature audiences; it contains coarse language, violence, nudity and/or mature subject matter. It also explores acts of graphic sexuality; including—but not limited to—extreme and/or alternate lifestyles behaviors and/or choices that may offend some: Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Additional Warning(s):

French language abuse ahead.

Although not generally a huge fan of such things, there are times when I find it enjoyable within the context of a story. If done properly it can add a salacious undertone to the naughty-bits of an M rated saga. Consequently and unapologetically, I give you fair warning that there is mention of he-slash bisexual waywardness ahead but no he-slash smooching, which does make me sort of uncomfortable for all I consider myself an open-minded individual who's doesn't care what other people like: What people do in private is their own look-out, I'm not about to judge.

There, you've been warned; now don't send me nasty-grams if I write something smutty or something else that upsets you.

FourthKata—We Thought They Were a Goner

With her overnight bag packed and over her shoulder, Hermione padded from her bedroom and made her way to the family room. She needed to see her parents before departing for the Weasley's and Harry's 'sweet sixteen' birthday party. As silent as ever, thanks to her bakenekoing earlier this summer, she leapt over the stairs and, without pausing, continued to the family room; she found her mum and dad cuddling on the couch and watching a video that Hermione didn't recognize.

"Mum; dad," she said on entering.

Hermione's parents virtually leapt from the sofa in surprise.

"Geez honey, you're going to give your mum a heart attack if you keep that up," Emma Granger said with amusement once her breathing and heart slowed, "Please try to make some noise when you move about, dear; you're so quiet these days."

"Sorry mum, if I'm not thinking about it I'm just very quiet," she said as she cat-pawed across the room, her poise as inhuman as it was silent, and sat beside her parents; very aware of how they now looked at her whenever she was nearby. Do they realize how they look at me anymore? Meow! I so want to pounce on them, right now. She thought, not caring that her parents' gaze might (should?) be disturbing to some; but for now, her greatest concern was the availability of cream at the Burrow.

Dan Granger, his wanton eyes gazing carnally at his daughter as his pants tightened, asked with concern, "Do you know what you're going to say to Harry and the Weasleys, about your . . . um . . . new attributes?"

"The truth, daddy; I was exposed to some magic earlier this summer. I'm sure the Harry and the Weasleys will understand, especially the Weasleys; considering the way Fred and George behaved in the past."

"Are you sure you don't want us to drive you to the Leaky Caldron?" Emma asked paternally, "You wouldn't have to leave so soon."

"I'm not leaving yet, mum, I just wanted to be packed; you know how I hate rushing and . . . well," Hermione said nervously before hesitantly added, "There's something I need to talk to you about; it's a bit of a bombshell. I thought that if I told you before I left you'd have a chance to . . . you know . . . mull over a few things without the awkwardness of me being in the house for a couple of days."

"Is this about your recent changes, dear? Your daddy and I know you've not told us everything and we spoke briefly about your recently acquired scar near the beginning of summer: we're reasonably certain they are connected."

"H-How . . ." she stammered.

"Honey, we're your parents. We know when our little girl is hiding things from us; please give us some credit," her father said, smiling.

"So," her mother began, "is this grand secret about your change, your scar or are they related?"

"I-I suppose they're related, the reason I was changed has a lot to do with my scar. Um . . . how do I say this?"

"Start at the beginning, kitten," Dan encouraged, "but just so you know; me'n'mum know that the magically world is not nearly as safe as we were led to believe by Professor McGonagall. This became very apparent when you stopped writing for a while back in your second year; we . . . well . . . started doing a bit of digging. Tom you know, the barkeep at the Leaky Caldron was very helpful; he filled in a lot of the missing details we should've been told. Had we known these before, I'm pretty certain we would've enrolled you at Beauxbatons in France; even though the language difference might have made things difficult for you at first. We know about You-know-who; his defeat at the hands of your friend Harry, when the lad was but a toddler and we know that this Voldemort character somehow came back near the end of your fourth year. And, before you ask, we read those stories in that rag, you magical folk call the Daily Prophet, which tried to paint young Harry as an 'attention seeking brat trying to undermine the Ministry' with your Headmaster's help. We never once believed you'd associate with a sociopath, let alone become his best friend or fall in love with one. We also know what you and your friends got up to in June."

Hermione blanched and became fidgety.

"So, honey," Emma picked up were Dan left off, "what have you got to say that we might not know or that paper of yours hasn't written about? We really are proud of you; very few people will stand up for what is right, especially when it puts their lives at risk."

"Well . . . I suppose that makes things easier," their daughter said nervously, "since you have the background already. I guess that means I can start with the real me . . . or the real me now."

Hermione's parents gave their daughter their undivided attention and noticed how nervous she looked. At last, their bushy-haired girl took a deep breath and smiled shyly before her appearance began to change. Stunned, Emma and Dan watched in rapt fascination, as their daughter's human ears shrunk as another set sprouted through her hair on the top of her head. Hermione's ears where obviously—very obviously—feline and seemed to twitch and turn towards sounds that she could hear but they could not. From the obvious alterations on her head to those beyond, they studied the changes in their daughter. Of these, the tail, which twitched nervously, was by far the most obvious but they also spied the advent of brunette fur, which had appeared on the back of her hands and arms.

"I suppose that explains your sudden penchant for skirts," Dan deadpanned.

With the shift back to her proper body, Hermione's non-magical parents were struck by their daughter's very sensual feline aura and allure that made them feel like the randy teenagers, which they had been. They were children of the sexual and birth-control revolution, of the late sixties and early seventies, and Emma and Dan had been at the forefront of such exploration and—together and apart—had hungrily dined on the vast buffet of unfettered debauchery that was available. Long buried memories of encounters and fantasies, unhindered by inhibition, bubbled to the surface in her parents' thoughts and fragments of these were broadcast—unknowingly—to their daughter. Hermione's highly evolved bakeneko awareness, rather akin to an extreme empathic form of Legilimency, began cataloguing and filing these images for future reference but a few demanded her immediate attention. Of these, one belonged to Emma and it was very surprising; Hermione allowed herself to experience it.

The brown-furred cat-girl let herself fall into the memory and found herself wondering if she was witnessing was history or a fantasy. Either way, without seeing its pre or post memory links, such determination remained impossible without actually asking. For the time being, though, Hermione opted to allow the images to play out; her mother's memories began to roll like a movie that had both a sound and a full sensations track; which any empathic creature—like a bakeneko—would experience in glorious mnemonic 'Sensurround'.*

Emma/Hermione found herself sitting in the lap of a male. This was obvious because she clearly saw a large, erect penis standing between her legs and resting snuggly against her very engorged nether lips; they were not alone. Another male, as naked as she, was kneeling between her spread legs and to Hermione's surprise; it was her father. (He looks about twenty, Hermione thought, as she studied her father's youthful face framed by rather long hair: It doesn't really suit him, the kitty-witch thought abstractly, but—meow—he's one tasty tom.) Surprisingly, Dan/dad leaned forward and without hesitation, licked the underside of the firm member pressed against her quim. Emma/Hermione gasped pleasurably as Dan/dad's tongue forced the penis against her labia, which parted a bit at the pressure. She moaned as the male beneath them cupped and squeezed her breasts, harder than would be comfortable if not for her extreme arousal. Through half-lidded eyes, Emma/Hermione took pleasure in both the sight and sensation of her boyfriend/father lavishing the dick and her pussy with an agile and experienced tongue. When Dan/dad's tongue reached the head of the hard cock, his lips slipped around it and he took it into his mouth. Her boyfriend/father's cheeks collapsed as he sucked the glans, with obvious force, before backing off.

As Dan/dad's lips drew free, Emma/Hermione felt her pussy spasm when she observed a thin thread of pre-cum; dangling from the tip of her boyfriend/father's tongue to the weeping eye of her lover's penis. Dan/dad resumed lavishing the member and his wife/daughter's pussy with his—obviously—well practiced tongue and lips. Each time his mouth reached the head of their lover's penis he took it into his mouth and, each time, the male Emma/Hermione were sitting on would buck his hips and attempt to drive his dick deeper into her boyfriend/father's mouth. With each thrust, the man would give her breasts an extra hard squeeze and pinch her nipples, with surprising force, and had it not been for her fiery-lust, it would've likely been at least uncomfortable. Emma/Hermione's moans grew fervent as her body plead for release and when her boyfriend/father—at last—lifted his face from their conjoined crotches, mother/daughter shifted and impaled herself, forcefully, upon the massive erection; copiously lathered and lubricated by Dan/daddy's saliva.

A scream of pleasure and subtle pain tore from Emma/Hermione's throat as the colossal girth of the penis brutally broadened her ready quim as she forced the monster into her quim. The cock plumbed the depths of her vagina and only stopped when its bulbous head pounded into Emma/Hermione's fluttering cervix. A mixture of usually contradictory sensations brought whimpers to the lips of mother/daughter as her slit adjusted to the size of the welcome invader. Panting but unable to truly catch her breath, Emma/Hermione's body adapted to the titanic intruder as her vaginal walls sheathed the dick like another layer of skin but thanks to her copious flow; the thin coating of mother/daughter arousal between pussy and penis, prevented unwanted friction. Emma/Hermione leaned back, her weight supported by her elbows and forearms, and tried to force even more of her lover into her quivering core before slowly lifting herself. She allowed no more than a third of the invader to exit before mother/daughter lowered herself with slow and forceful intent; swallowing the length back into herself. Emma/Hermione moaned as her pussy stretched once more to accommodate her lover's sizable manhood; it displaced the viscous liquid that had filled the brief void between glans and cervix. The slippery fluid oozed from where her nether lips clenched her lover's girth and, had she been moving faster, it would have squirted copious amounts of nectar onto the nearby face of her boyfriend/father.

Emma/Hermione soon developed a slow and forceful pelvic rhythm, which allowed Dan/daddy to comfortably resume his paused tongue work. With growing abandon, her boyfriend/father eagerly licked her engorged clit and, without reserve, the glistening underside of her lover's plundering member whenever it became exposed. (This is so hot, Hermione thought as she continued to share not just her mother's memories but the accompanying sensations related to them. I can't wait to do this with daddy and Harry, thought the brown-furred bakeneko. Bellakits told me that being double-teamed by a pair of hot toms, without stupid macho hang-ups, is something every good kitty deserves now and then, she thought until becoming lost in her mother's increasingly chaotic memories.) She felt the pressure between her mother/daughter's legs and throughout her body grow. 'I'm about to cum,' Emma/Hermione heard as her lover began thrusting up as she drove herself down to meet him. With a groan, accompanied by a twitching spasm, her paramour erupted. He flooded mother/daughter's quim with rapidly successive pulses of seed and she felt herself being filled; his last few sporadic thrusts drove her to their own frantic and screaming release.

Panting, Emma/Hermione reveled in post-orgasmic bliss as her palpitating heart pounded in her chest and echoed in her ears. Dan/dad, extremely aroused but obviously uncomfortable in his awkward position, shifted and rolled onto his back and sought to steady his breathing. He glanced up and met his girlfriend/daughter's eyes. Emma/Hermione recognized his unspoken invitation and obvious hunger; she replied with a salacious grin and lifted from the large member impaling her. Giving silent thanks to the Kegel exercises, practiced while watching the tele or reading, mother/daughter's pussy clenched tight as her playmate's bulbous head slipped from the confines of her cum laden quim, spilling nary a drop. Mother/daughter, sensing her lover's retreat, repositioned herself and planted her knees on either side of Dan's head. Emma/Hermione giggled coquettishly as she prepared to act in a manner most men would find humiliating but Dan, fortunately, had no such hang-ups; such play added another erotic dimension to the highly explorative and lascivious games they both enjoyed. She lowered herself and once she felt her boyfriend/father's tongue on her puffy nymphaea, mother/daughter relaxed her taunted pelvic muscle and felt her pussy gape to its near post-coital width. Emma/Hermione felt the flood of mixed fluids nearly gush from her nearly over-stretched sex and the idea of it spilling into her boyfriend/father's willing mouth sent near-orgasmic spasms through her still hungry quim. Mother/daughter moaned when her nether-lips kissed Dan/dad's lips and she felt his profligate tongue lapping at her gaping quim as it drained into his open maw.

Through barely focused and sweat-irritated eyes, Emma/Hermione ravenously eyed her boyfriend/father's cock, which twitched with frustrated need and demanded reciprocation. Leaning forward but keeping Dan/dad's mouth firmly engaged with her still dripping pussy, mother/daughter lowered her face and enthusiastically began to fulfil her carnal, willing and decadent obligation. Her tongue playfully danced over her boyfriend/father's swollen glans and naughtily attempted the impossible as she tried to enter his pre-cum weeping urethra with the firm tip of her lingua. Dan/daddy obviously would not stand for his wife/daughter's mere teasing behavior; he firmly placed his hands on either side Emma/Hermione's head and pushed himself into her accepting mouth. (I'm sure mummy must be glad that daddy isn't as thick as the other guy, Hermione reflected in light of the memory she was experiencing, that would've really stretched her mouth open; why isn't daddy stopping? She asked, as her boyfriend/father continued to shove himself deeper and deeper into her mouth.) Mother/daughter felt the tip of his dick reach the back of her mouth but, through crossed eyes, she saw that there was still more to go and she knew that Dan/dad had no intention of stopping until he had buried himself fully. Emma/Hermione dry-swallowed but once their throat had relaxed it reopened and eagerly accommodated its remaining yet significant length. (Whoa, Hermione thought as she vicariously and skillfully deep-throated her boyfriend/father; mummy either is in complete control of her gag-reflex or doesn't have one. This is sort of an odd feeling having something part way down my throat, kinda uncomfortable but okay feeling; mummy seems to like it . . . I'm beginning to feel light-headed; why isn't mum pulling back? What is daddy doing? His tongue and lips feel so good. This feeling . . . what is it? So intense. I . . . I/we need to breath! Oh . . . Oh . . . I/we're dizzy; daddy don't stop! What's with the light flashes? I . . . I . . . we . . . we're . . . we're . . . Mor-Morgana . . . i-it's t-too much . . .)

". . . H-Hermione?" The brown-furred bakeneko heard a quiet voice intrude into the turmoil roiling in the maelstrom that was her mind and her mother's memories.

As if her unlidded eyes opened, Hermione found herself gazing at her mother; she began with rather ineloquent incoherence, ". . . M-Mum?"

The Granger women's eyes focused upon each other and the mother/daughter duo blushed as each accepted that they had shared something neither would've hinted—let alone spoken—about. Daniel Granger gave his girls an odd look that evolved into confusion when Emma said out-of-the-blue, in answer to her daughter's unspoken question, "It's not about sexuality, Hermione dear; it's about sensuality."

"You mean . . ." the bakeneko began.

Emma interrupted, ". . . yes. Things were different when we were your age, honey. The worst you had to worry about was an unplanned pregnancy since a simple regime of antibiotics took care of most of the rest. For a decade or so, taboos tumbled and for those willing to embrace their . . . um, well . . . sybaritic selves there was an opportunity to experience many delicacies of the flesh with little or no concern or remorse."

"I-I never . . ."

Hermione's mother smiled and said, "Come now, honey; you can't expect a mother to speak about her sex life—past or present—with her daughter or in any real detail, now do you?"

"I . . . I suppose not," she replied, "Still, it's . . . well . . . surprising and rather . . . um . . . unexpected I'd say. It does make a few things easier to talk about, I guess; considering yours and daddy's . . . er . . . previous experience."

"Kitten, while I may not know the full context of this conversation," Daniel said, "I have a pretty good idea from wench it came and where it's going. So why don't we all just stop beating around the bush and say it: yes, your mum and I were pretty bohemian when we were your age and we'd be hypocrites, of the highest order, if we told you not to experiment with . . . things; you're our daughter after all, should we expect anything else? All I have to say, and I'm sure mum will agree, is be careful and think about what you are doing. Curiosity is fine but temper it with common sense; whatever you choose to embrace, embrace it of your own free will: don't let other's pressure you to give more than you wish to give. With that said and the way that I feel right now tells me that the new you goes beyond just kitty ears and tails; there is a distinct aura—whether pheromones or magical I don't know—that is distinctly and unquestionably . . . well . . . erotic, for all that is quite the uncomfortable word to use about our daughter. Your mum and me felt it that very first night after your . . . er . . . accident and it has left us feeling almost chronically . . ."

". . . horny," Emma unabashedly chipped in.

"Mum!"

"Perhaps not the word I would've used but," he said with a smile, ". . . well, there you have it, I suppose. So, having acknowledged that elephant in the room, let us continue our—hopefully—now less awkward conversation and deal with things as a family."

Breaking a brief but thorny silence, Emma asked, "I suppose the first thing we want to know is; is the new look permanent?"

Hermione, finding the question somewhat uncomfortable, hesitated before she replied, "I-I never really pursued it after the first day. I quickly found it to be . . . rather liberating and when I weighed the pros and cons of being a bakeneko—that's what I am now, a bakeneko—versus being a human witch; I found very few reason to become human again. I'm still a witch but I'm also a cat; I have a cat's reflexes, strength, agility and all that but I'm also more attuned to my magic. I've hardly touched my wand since I changed but my abilities and power have grown exponentially; it has all become so easy."

"Hermione, Professor McGonagall told us that you aren't allowed to use magic outside of school until you are seventeen," Emma admonished, "Dad and me don't want you to get into trouble with that ministry of yours; especially if they're anything like that Umbridge person who was killed earlier this summer . . ."

Hermione blanched; suddenly having parents who had kept themselves well informed become decisively unwelcome and wholly uncomfortable.

"Hermione honey?" her mother said as both her parents immediately noticed their daughter's response.

The brown-furred bakeneko's tail twitched erratically in anxiety and her ears had folded back but her parents didn't need such obvious signs to see that there was something beyond troubling for their daughter. They were about to ask when the air began to feel heavy and charged as the scent of ozone accosted their noses. A faint electric like buzz rose from the area near Hermione and as Dan and Emma turned towards it; they saw four blue and catlike eyes fade in from the thin air. Transfixed, the older Grangers watched as bodies followed the eyes. As if in slow motions, two impossibly large housecats took shape on either side of their daughter. One feline, standing on Hermione's right, had the darkest black fur and the other on her left was blonde in a very unnatural shade for a cat. About the necks of both were collars, with shiny brass bells that playfully promoted the 'feline ideal', satiny black for the ebony and icy-blue for the other. Absently, Hermione rested a hand on each cat's head and appeared to take immediate succor from the contact; both felines pushed their heads up in, seemingly, anthropomorphic support of Dan and Emma's daughter.

This surreal sight then took another odd twist as the black cat took a step forward and as the animal moved, it changed form and became a black-furred version of Hermione. For a moment, Emma and Dan looked upon a very attractive and very naked cat-girl of about twenty-five. Where do I get a body like that? The adult Grangers each thought for somewhat different reasons as they stared at the nubile young woman with perfect proportions, the kitty-ears and the tail just adding an extra erotic dimension to an already salacious and naughty looking female. The sable-furred bakeneko flashed a suggestive smile at Hermione's parents before ribbons of black material burst from her collar. The ribbons wrapped about her body before they transformed into a black leather corset and miniskirt combination, with fishnet stockings for her long and shapely legs. Black ankle-boots, with stiletto heels, completed an ensemble that Dan knew—for all she'd look super-hot in it—Emma would never wear in public.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger," the ebony-furred cat-girl began, "my name was Bellatrix Lestrange . . ."

To Bella's surprise, the Grangers appeared to recognize her name and while each appeared terrified, her bakeneko empathy told her that they were both ready to fight and protect their daughter. She tried to smile non-threateningly but it seemed to provoke the opposite response.

"We kn-know who you are, Mrs. L-Lestrange," Daniel said very firmly despite his stammer, "we read about you; you're one of his followers. W-Why are you h-here?"

"Mum; dad . . ." Hermione began.

". . . Hermione is our Empress," Bella stated abruptly, "She freed me from my former master . . ."

Terror transformed to demanding and Daniel Granger ordered, ". . . Explain!"

"Please, Bella . . ." the brown-furred bakeneko said and tried to step between Bella and her parents.

She was held back by Cissy, whose sudden change gave the Grangers another eyeful of attractive and naked cat-girl before she too was clad in a manner similar to Bellakits but for the icy-blue color.

"Hermione, I think it will be best if you let Bella and I speak," the former Mrs. Malfoy spoke softly but surprisingly parentally, "For all you are exceptional in both intellect, ability and maturity you are still only sixteen; commonly experience supersedes knowledge when navigating complex circumstances and these are definitely complicated. I am not dismissing you or your abilities, love, but I think approaching this from mine and Bella's perspective will be easier."

"I don't care about perspective; I want answers!" Dan nearly roared, "Why do we have a known killer and a woman I do not know in our living room?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger my name is Narcissa but please call me Cissy when I look like this; I'm honored to meet you. You have an incredible daughter who proudly holds her tail high, despite the almost chronic prejudice and abuse that our world has heaped upon her," the ever the consummate diplomate, began, "May my sister and I sit? This is likely to be a long conversation and I'd prefer that my paws not become sore from standing too long."

Although the Grangers were wary, Emma's glance towards the sofa was an obvious invitation. Cissy smiled in response but Dan and Emma obviously found her fangs unnerving; it was unfortunate that shifting to full human didn't change those or her cat-like eyes. The blonde and black furred bakenekos then stepped with inhuman grace, like Hermione's, and took their seats; their daughter joined the visitors and the Grangers took their usual places on the loveseat. A few moments of awkward silence ensued; what followed was a highly informative yet extremely abridged version of Magical England's history since 1945. Cissy's exposé, with the odd bit of insight provided by Bellakits here and there, resulted in two things: Daniel Granger opening his bottle of eighteen-year-old Scotch and a certainty that Hermione would've attended Beauxbatons (language skills notwithstanding; had someone mentioned the French school in the beginning) if they had known what they knew now. The Scotch was a welcome chaser to the blonde-furred bakeneko's impromptu history lesson; a bottle of butterbeer became Hermione's liquid succor.

"Thank you Miss . . . I'm sorry, I didn't catch your surname," Emma finally spoke.

Cissy smiled again and replied, "There is no need to apologize Missus . . ."

". . . Emma please . . ." Mrs. Granger interjected.

". . . Emma," Cissy resumed, "I don't precisely have a surname at the moment but if you took into account pureblooded sensitivities and traditions my name would be . . . well . . . granger but with a small 'G'; as in Cissy-granger."

Emma and Dan choked on their Scotch as Hermione spat a mouthful of butterbeer in surprise; she promptly vanished the liquid sans wand and silently, Hermione didn't consider that this was the first intentional magic her parents had seen her do since before Hogwarts.

"Sorry?" Dan and Emma said in unison, in response to the more pressing matter of the blonde-furred cat-girl's revelation.

"Until the affairs of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black are settled, due to the passing of its Head; I am more property than person, at the moment and, in a manner of speaking, I belong to Hermione," Cissy said without any shame or ire. "I hope that once matters of House Black's succession are confirmed, I might be permitted to take up my maiden name once more but such things mean far less to me than they once did; thanks to Hermione."

"Okay, just to be sure we're all on the same page here," Dan began, seeking conformation, "and if Emma and I are interpreting things correctly, you—a young, very attractive and charming . . . um . . . cat-girl . . ."

Bellakits giggled and said, ". . . Cissy's forty-one."

"You're just jealous, Miss forty-five," Cissy countered playfully, once again glad that she was allowed to have fun again and even be a little silly from time to time.

"You two look only in your mid-twenties!" Emma exclaimed with a hint of envy.

"Our Empress' gift," Bellakits replied lightheartedly, "but it cost me and Cissy a couple of cup sizes or so; having smaller breasts is my only lament at being bakeneko but boob size isn't enough to make me wear my 'human' form any longer than is absolutely necessary; it feels like wearing ill-fitting clothes now, yuck."

"That's the second time you've referred to our daughter as Empress," Daniel observed, "I think we're missing part of the story still. What have you got to say for yourself, kitten?"

Cissy and Bellakits both had to stifle their giggles.

"I suppose it's my turn now," Hermione replied, thankful that this strange meeting was going this well, "and begins with my first visit to Diagon Alley this summer. That day, I was trying to find out how to get rid of the Trace that all wands belonging to underage witches and wizards are charmed with. You see, I was worried about not being able to practice and learn new magic over the summer and with everything that had happened; I knew I had to do whatever I could to help and protect Harry. I found myself in a wand store in Knockturn Alley that day. The owner of the store, Mr. Smith, wouldn't tell me how to remove the Trace but he told me he could make a wand for me without it but I didn't have the fifty plus Galleons it would've cost. Mr. Smith then showed me a wand and said I could try it for one Galleon and if it chose me, it would be mine. I gave the wand a wave, the next thing I remembered was waking up in my room looking like this, and the wand was gone. Crookshanks, thankfully, was able to explain . . ."

". . . Your cat, that Crookshanks?" Emma exclaimed and as if summoned by the use of his name, the half-kneazle wandered into the room and jumped into Mrs. Granger's lap; he began to purr.

"Um . . . I can kinda speak to—well think to—cats now," the brown-furred cat-witch said shyly, "we all can, it's part of being a bakeneko, mum."

"Ooookay," Mrs. Granger was sounding confused and uncertain, "let me get this straight: you waved a wand, were magically teleported home, woke up as a cat-girl and now you can talk to—I mean think to—cats . . ."

Hermione nodded; it sounded absurd even to her and she had experienced it. That her parents were having a difficult time digesting everything was perfectly reasonably and understandable; it was a heavy buffet style information-feast, she hoped it wouldn't sour their stomachs.

Daniel frowned and asked with a hint of anger, "So how do we get from being turned into a cat-girl . . . a bakeneko if you prefer and becoming royalty; you even have subjects and they're cat-girls too. Is being a cat-girl contagious? That aside, both are old enough to be your mother and I'd be blind if I didn't see how you three have looked at each other every now and then; I take it that your relationship is beyond simple friendship or that of a sovereign with her subjects. Please explain; especially that last part."

Bellakits, Hermione and Cissy blushed, each feeling as if they had just been brought before their intended's parents or—in Hermione's case—having just brought home an intended, for the first time.

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts and to pick her words, Hermione then spoke, "That started the next day."

"Very well then, young lady, out with it," Emma nearly demanded. What followed was a necessarily graphic story, with some significantly dark moments, told by Hermione with the aid of both Bellakits and Cissy providing some key background information. By its end, the air in the living room had become heavy and the silence was like an unwelcome pressure pushing in on their ears. Even Crookshanks felt it and with a soft 'mew', abandoned Emma's lap in search of more comfortable environs; it was the half-kneazle's behavior, which finally broke the stalemate of awkwardness dominating the room.

"Oh honey," Emma began, there were tears in her eyes, "come give your mother a hug."

Hermione rose immediately, went to her mother, sat on her lap and embraced her; Emma hugged back as Dan found himself stroking the top of his daughter's head and scratching her behind the ears. She began to purr softly. From the sofa, Cissy and Bellakits witnessed this tender family moment but never having experienced anything similar, in the cold and emotionless environment that was a Black family dwelling; they felt like intruders. They felt cheated and for all the wealth and privilege, they had been showered with as they grew up, they'd never experienced this concept of 'home'. The feeling was especially poignant for Cissy, who realized she had served Draco a grave injustice in the manner she had allowed him to be raised. How she wished she could blame her husband for it but she had been no better than Lucius, when it had come to her son. He was spoiled, vain and bigoted and Draco's sense of entitlement and inflated ego would likely see him join the Lestrange brothers, Umbridge, Dolohov and likely his father before Hermione was done with Magical England and they had departed for friendlier shores. Cissy's one faint hope, for her son, now rested with her empress' mercy and sense of justice but Hermione wasn't Dumbledore; she wouldn't blindly forgive and when it came to Draco's past behaviors, especially towards the brown-furred bakeneko, why should she?

"Th-that's some story, kitten," Dan's voice almost deafening after the preceding and penetrating silence, "Selected by a piece of magical wood to become the harbinger and progenitor of a long lost race of mystical Japanese cat-creatures sure departs from how we envisioned our daughter's future. Before Hogwarts, we saw our little girl growing up and going to Dental College, meeting a handsome young dentist, getting married and having a brood of grand-kittens for us to spoil; and when the time came for me and mum to retire we'd pass our surgery on to her. I suppose the brood of grand-kittens remains a possibility but I never thought my pet-name for you, Hermione, would become so accurate."

Hermione turned pink but Bellakits and Cissy's giggles deepened that shade to red.

"Dan!" Emma exclaimed playfully, "You're embarrassing our daughter before her lovers."

Mrs. Granger's declaration put a stop to the giggles as three cat-girls found the floor suddenly very fascinating. Hermione rose from her mother's comforting lap and joined Bella and Cissy on the sofa.

"Come on you three," Hermione's mother stated in a teasing tone, "you must think we're blind or stupid; if you think we wouldn't read between the lines of the story you told us and since all this seems mighty permanent Dan and me may as well accept and get used to it. We're still expecting the brood of grand-kittens, Dan mentioned, to spoil young lady; we'll leave it to you to figure out the mechanics behind that can be accomplished."

After a moment to recover from Emma's unexpected expectation and acceptance, Cissy said, "You're taking this very well Mrs. Granger . . ."

". . . Emma," Hermione's mum sternly interjected, "you and Mrs. Lestrange . . ."

". . . just Bella please, I've left the name 'Lestrange' behind me, thank you very much," the sable-furred bakeneko interrupted with a bit of a clipped tone. "The best thing I ever did as a Lestrange, or as a follow of the Dark Lord for that matter, was capturing my empress in a misguided attempt to curry favor with a half-blood masquerading as a pureblooded lord. And for all that my redemption was not something I willingly embraced; I am certainly glad that my empress allowed me to live when she had every right to kill me outright. If I had not been so impulsive, foolish or thinking myself better than a lowly 'mudblood', I would've likely joined my husband, his brother and Umbridge on the crosses, which now adorn the atrium at the Ministry of Magic."

"Our daughter, regardless of the reason, took away your freedom," Daniel Granger reiterated, "How can you sit there and blindly accept being Hermione's slave; I—we—don't understand. And what about Narcissa, did she also warrant the loss of her freedom?"

"I was little more than a slave to the wizard my parents contracted my marriage to," Bellakits explained, "that's the nature of being a witch in high pureblood society and what was expected of me. I had never been taught to question my place or really anything for that matter. I blindly accepted the crap my family and peers shoveled at me and rallied to the call of 'pureblooded supremacy' when it echoed across the land. I have no illusions over who or what I am or have been; I'm a bat-shit crazy sadomasochist who not only tortured, maimed and killed—without remorse—but got a pleasant twinge in my crotch each time that I did. If I had lived in any other country, even the most backwater shit-hole you could imagine, I'd likely be dead now and it would've been a bloody, painful and drawn-out affair, of that I am sure. I am so awash in pain and carnage that I fully expect, when death finally finds me, to be sent to the deepest pits of Perdition and no matter how much good I do between now and then, I doubt it will be enough to cleanse my filthy soul. If becoming my empress' slave is what the Moerai now deem to be my worth, so be it; I accept their judgement knowing full well it's far more than I deserve and far less than I've earned."

Giving the Granger's a moment to digest what Bella had said, Cissy then began her story, "I too was 'sold' to my husband but as the youngest Black the conditions of my contract were not nearly as harsh. I've spent the majority of my married years emotionally neglected by Lucius; he was always more interested in playing politics than playing with me and once I became pregnant he never touched me again. Thankfully, for him, he's been smart enough to not try with me what I've been told he has done to others; how I wish he had, since breaching certain conditions in our marriage agreement would've allowed me to act in my defense and to the degree of my choosing. Historically, the Malfoys have never been as smart or as cunning as they think they are (ask Hermione about my son sometime; he's a very embarrassing specimen of a Black) and Black family contracts always favor the Black in them. It's a pity that Lucius is such a coward and is afraid of me, I might have been divested of him sooner. The only thing that truly bothers me about being essential owned by Empress Hermione is that I wasn't given a choice and that once again my future was decided for me instead of by me.

"Either way," Cissy proceeded, "had the choice been mine I would've taken it just to really piss off Lucius, the cat-girl thing and being beholden to Hermione was another matter but that happened in the heat of intense passion; I can't rightly blame anyone for losing control then and Hermione was very upset with herself afterwards and very apologetic. We had quite a lot of fun later; she allowed me to punish her for taking my freedom without consent but even if I had been given the choice I would've taken it, just not as soon. I'm part of something much bigger now and even though my future is far less certain it is far more valuable than the safe monotony I had before. Allow me to ease your understandable consternation though, Emma and Dan; for all Bella and I are bound to our Empress and forced to obey we are not really slaves. If Hermione ever acts to the detriment our clowder, our instincts will override our bindings and compel us to challenge our empress for the Bakeneko Throne, you might say. If the current sovereign loses, she swaps places with her challenger and becomes bound to the new empresses' will. Nevertheless, I highly doubt she'd lose, therefore I must have faith that her sense of duty and justice will prevail throughout the years of her reign."

Dan and his wife exchanged glances and then then Emma asked, "Why do you doubt she'd lose? Hermione is only sixteen and has had only five years of magical education so far; you and Bella both have more knowledge and more experience, especially; such a combination is usually very hard to defeat and makes Bella and you far more powerful when taken into account."

No giggles rose from either Bellakits or Cissy; they both just exploded in loud side-clutching laughter.

Emma and Dan looked at the two hysterical cat-girls on their sofa before turning their eyes back to their daughter in confusion; their daughter was blushing again.

"Did I say something funny?" Emma finally asked as her guests slowly regained their composer.

Wiping the laugh-induced tears from her eyes, Bella, still fighting the giggles, replied. "Hermione, aside for being the hottest witch I know and the subject of quite a number of my less than pure and quite intense fantasies . . ."

". . . Bella . . ." Hermione interposed, aghast by her first's salacious declaration to her parents no less.

". . . since I first saw her in the Department of Mysteries," the ebony-furred bakeneko continued without missing a beat, "is one of—maybe—a few dozen magicals ranked as Supreme Magi the world over."

Daniel Granger scowled at that, his daughter had joined her friend Harry Potter as one Destiny's chew-toys and if the opportunity ever presented itself, he intended to punch that bitch Fate in the face. Marshalling his anger, which had bled into his tone, he asked, "What does that mean precisely?"

"It means, Dan; Emma," Cissy began, "that there are maybe a couple of witches or wizards in all of the UK that could truly stand against Hermione and none are named Dumbledore or Voldemort."

"Okay," Dan said, "I get that Hermione is powerful and essentially untouchable; but what does that mean for our family's future? From the way you've described it, our daughter is essentially a demi-god now. Emma and I are muggles, how do we fit into our daughter's new life, which seems intent on separating us even more than finding out she was a witch. We've always been a close family; how do we relate to Hermione being a—Supreme Magi and kitty-witch too boot?"

"The easiest way to relate to your daughter is by becoming bakenekos, like us," Bellakits stated matter-of-factly.

"Bella . . ." Hermione's tone a warning; it was too soon for this discussion.

"Become bakenekos, as easy as that?" Daniel said with displeasure, "and just how do you propose that we do that? Come to think of it, you've yet to explain how you and Narcissa became bakenekos."

"She bit us while she was in her bakeneko body," Cissy simply answered.

"B-Bit you . . . like a vampire or-or something?" Emma stated, sounding quite aghast.

"I suppose that's as good an analogy as any," Bella replied.

"D-Does it hurt?" Mrs. Granger asked softly but unintentionally aloud; she clamped her hands over her mouth.

Flabbergasted, Daniel looked at his wife and said, "Are . . . Are you actually considering this . . . this being bitten thing, Em?"

Bellakits giggled before saying lasciviously, "I'd love biting you, Emma, you smelled so tasty when me and Cissy arrived; you too Dan, meow!"

"Bella . . ." Hermione's tone warned again. "They are my parents, do not tease them and please control your filthy mind. I'm sorry mum; dad, Bella can be . . . well . . . playful and her . . . um . . . libido sometimes speaks out of turn. I'll not allow her to . . . er . . . bite either of you."

"Of course not," Bella tittered, "they're your parents, you get to bite them first, at least you should bite your mother first; it's only proper."

"What am I going to do with you, Bellakits?" Hermione scolded as she tried to figure out how to stop this conversation from veering down the road of Bella's insatiable appetites.

"Why Hermione first?" Emma whispered but it was worrisome that she found something appealing about being bitten by her daughter; the idea made her panties uncomfortable, which in turn made her feel like a deviant. What is happening to me? She thought in near panic. I've not been this hormone addled since before Hermione was born. I can understand feeling this way towards Bella or Cissy but my daughter too?

Cissy heard Emma and answered, "It's a hierarchy thing, Emma. First off, Bakeneko Society is utterly and instinctually matriarchal. There is an Empress at the top, just below her are the Clan Matrons and beneath them are the clan members or 'clan-kitties'. The 'Empress' Bite' makes a Clan Matron, the 'Matron's Bite' bite creates a beholden clan-kitty. Neither male Bakenekos, regardless of matron, nor female 'clan-kitty' bakenekos can pass 'the Gift' although the 'Empress' Bite' will . . . um . . . promote a female clan-kitty to Clan Matron.

"This all sounds a little too cutesy," Dan observed.

"My apologies Mr. Granger," Cissy the diplomat replied, "but the words I used are—at best—English approximates to their Bakenekoese equivalents."

"Fine, I get that but how do you know all this?" He asked, "Is there a 'Bakeneko for Dummies' manual I can read somewhere?"

"Dan . . ." Emma's cross voice warned he was being too sarcastic but she understood her husband's feelings, this was a lot to swallow.

". . . Sorry Emma," he replied in an understanding that came from being together for years; he continued with an evener tone, "This is a lot to take in."

"Try living it daddy," Hermione said in playful amusement, "We keep learning new things, like we're connected to some bakeneko racial-instinct database that spits out knowledge when something new arises. Some of the information—like me being the empress of a long-lost clan of feline assassins—has been really hard to fathom . . ."

". . . Assassins!" Dan and Emma exclaimed; recovering first Mr. Granger said angrily, "Our little girl can't lead a clan of assassins . . . when were you going to mention that? Wait, what happened in that Ministry of yours; don't tell me that was you. Our little girl would never . . ."

". . . Mr. Granger," Bella's tone countenanced no interruption, "We've been very upfront with what is happening in Magical Society and Hermione's heritage—even before being a bakeneko is taken into account—means that far too many 'upstanding' citizens of Wizarding England think a 'mudblood' is a stain, which needs to be 'cleansed' before it taints our 'superior' nobility. Hermione has been maligned, marginalized and mistreated by mainstream Magical Society not for her vices but for her virtues; she is rightfully angry but her sense of justice prevents her from walking the path of vengeance. Unlike my former master, my empress has no interest in foisting her will upon a weak-minded, complacent or petty populace. The mindless masses should be thankful for the Bakeneko's feline nature; we are instinctually too aloof and apathetic to bother ourselves with the sheep of society and intend to ignore them once we establish our own home."

"And then what?" Emma asked.

Hermione casually replied, "I follow my nature. I'll not impose myself upon their society as long as they don't impose themselves upon mine. I'm a cat now, a cat I'll remain and I'm quite content with that; thank you very much. Why should I bother with those who'd use my power for their own goals and ends; then toss me aside once I've achieved their aspirations through great sacrifices to myself? I'll fight for myself and my people; let others fight for themselves and leave me out of it when they do. Magical England has openly declared my worth, time and time again, as a 'mudblood' witch who should be 'content with serving her betters while lying on her back'; I owe them nothing and nothing is what they'll get from me."

"But not everyone is like that, Hermione," Daniel Granger implored, "what of them?"

"I've got no interest in winnowing society," retorted the brown-furred bakeneko, "let others separate the wheat from the chaff. Wizarding England had more than ten years between Voldemort's fall and his inevitable return to pull the weeds choking itself with graft and corruption but did nothing, why should I do it for them; why should Harry? Magical sheep are still just sheep and last year the flock appointed Delores Umbridge as the shepherd of Hogwarts and allowed her to promote the views of a coward owned by Lucius Malfoy and his ilk. If the Magical Community prefers to be collectively blind, then the only vision they'll have is that which is defined by those seeking to keep the power they neither earned nor deserve. I believed that I, through the use of keen argument and my own clear and substantial ability, would make this society better; I never asked myself if I should.

"Since becoming bakeneko and receiving real history lessons from Bella and then Cissy," Hermione carried on, "I've come to realize that Magical Britain, hiding behind the Statute of Secrecy, has evaded true conflict. Without conflict, a society has no impetus to see beyond itself or change; it becomes static and stratified. 'A place for everything and everything in its place' describes Magical England to a tee; motion is lateral, if there's any motion at all, and what's perceived as change is bound in the tangle that is the status quo. Why should I try to redeem a culture where creativity is distrusted and questions are persecuted; this is not the world I envisioned for my future and I'm too young to be truly invested in the culture, so why protect it? I've done as much as I'm willing to do for it; I even supplied the key to Wizarding England's redemption in the message I left in the atrium at the Ministry of Magic. I'll leave it to others to understand and implement the key; I'd rather play!"

"That was you, kitten?" Dan asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Did you have to be so brutal?" Emma asked with concern, she had found the pictures in the Daily Prophet disturbing to say the least; that her little girl could be so brutal. It was hard to comprehend until she—with a glance at Hermione's pointy ears and tail—remembered that her daughter's nature was now part feline and like most cats; bakenekos liked to play with their prey. With that in mind, Emma suddenly found herself facing an unexpected duality in her nature; part of her abhorred her daughter's actions, the other envied her daughter's freedom to act and—with a glance at the scantily clad and sexy cat-girls in her living room—other things. Am I, even for just a moment, considering what I think I am? Thought a suddenly very introspective Doctor of Dental Surgery, whose husband—unknowingly—was thinking the same.

"The sheeple hear only the loudest of voices," Bellakits replied, "Our Empress needed to roar not mew pitifully; she knew that and acted decisively. In the end, though, if you knew what my husband and my brother-in-law had done in the past you'd think they got off too easy and as I said early; I rightly earned a place beside them. As for Dolores Umbridge, after I soothed Hermione with the harsh domination she desired and she fell into a blissful sleep, I returned to the Senior Undersecretary's office and dug about her files. What I found chilled me to my very sadomasochist bones; I've tortured and killed with passion and near rapture but I was 'human' when I did it. What Umbridge had planned was a cold and efficient pogrom that would see 'mudbloods' tortured and experimented upon in an effort to discover how magic was stolen from proper pureblooded magicals. Like many, even those from some of the more liberal families and houses, she believes that 'magic theft' is why there are more squibs now than ever before and why the population of magical new-bloods is growing. Even the parents and siblings of those new-bloods would have a place in the new order; they'd be used as spell practice targets. If you want to see those plans, I'd gladly collect them for you; you see I kept them in case my Empress ever began doubting her actions."

"Thank you Bella, you always know how to sooth me when I'm troubled; I'd like to see those files after I get back from the Weasley's: I'll let you decide the reward you've earned for being so thoughtful," Hermione purred seductively, pulsing her allure in an unintentional display of delight.

Unfortunately, Dan and Emma were within range of their daughter's Royal-bakeneko allure and being non-magical, they were quite unprepared for its affect. Emma screamed in ecstasy, her eyes rolled to their whites and her body became limp leaving her as little more than a panting boneless puddle of post-coital bliss. Daniel Granger, with a touch more fortitude, stayed conscious but lightheadedly hard in his now very tight briefs, which he would promptly need to change. Narcissa and Bellakits, thankful that they didn't wear panties because of their tails, fared better but their yowls sent secondary waves of bakeneko allure at the nonmagicals in their midst; those waves crashed over Dan and Emma. Hermione nearly lost it herself as she watched her mother twitch and spasm through a series of consecutive climaxes that wracked her body beyond humanly endurance and filled the room with a very enticing odor.

Unconsciously touching herself with little—if any—inhibition, except keeping her hands above her clothes, Hermione realized her mother was trapped in a slowly waning rapture-loop. She'd seen it happen to Bella, from time to time, but this seemed far more intense; with a whiff of envy—her mother's scent wholly enticing—the brown-furred bakeneko wondered what it felt like and found herself envisioning decidedly non-daughterly interactions with the woman who had birthed her. This rapt fascination held Hermione transfixed until a groan reached her ear, she looked towards the sound and gasped: her father, slouched on the loveseat and his legs stretched out, appeared ensnared by his own loop. Like Emma, Daniel Granger's eyes showed only their whites and he was panting just as hard. Between ragged breaths, rasping groans slipped through his lips and a jerky pelvic thrust, which drew her blue eyes, accompanied each groan. Hermione's eyes gazed at her father's very prominent pant mound and licked her lips, as a spot on Dan's crotch grew darker and larger; the blue-eyed cat-girls, squirming on the sofa, found themselves craving some cream.

"Wow, you are a filthy kitty," Bella suddenly exclaimed, Hermione and Cissy flinched at the sudden sound before their sable-furred playmate stated, "Not that I blame you, I want to pounce on them too but you'd better stop; you might damage them or maybe addict them."

"S-Stop w-what?" Hermione stammered as the erotic fog that clouded her mind drifted away; she felt her face grow very hot.

"Um . . . well . . . you're magic . . ." Bellakits began.

". . . What about my magic?" Hermione interjected.

Cissy smiled rather naughtily and said, "It's feeding and prolonging the state your parents are in, can't you feel it?"

"Oh," the brown-furred kitty-witch muttered meekly and bridled her magic.

"Finite," incanted the blonde bakeneko with a wave of her hand; the Grangers' overloaded pleasure centers began to settle.

"Oh my," Emma Granger understated almost comically as her eyes fluttered open. "That . . . that was . . . different."

Daniel Granger, his voice still raspy but amused sounding, croaked, "Different? Is that all you have to say? Different?"

"Mum; dad, I'm s-so s-sorry," Hermione blurted out and rushed to her parents; she knelt on the floor between them and began rambling, "It's the cat inside; she's . . . she's impulsive and . . . and s-she craves pl-pleasure like . . . like a starving man c-craves f-food. S-she's n-never really satiated; always r-ready for m-more. The . . . the ultimate pl-playmate—l-like a-a veela—but . . . but she n-never settles; n-never ex-exclusive; al-always s-seeking; al-always un-uninhibited in-in the ex-extreme . . ."

Emma, nearly drowning in the waves of her daughter's distress, began stroking Hermione's head and scratching behind her pointy ears; slowly her brown-furred daughter's tail lost the twitchy anxious flicks and settled to a languid wag. The cat-girl began to purr and for all it was soothing; it encouraged an unwelcome return for some rather nonmaternal feelings. Emma became lost in the rumble Hermione was emitting and her daughter's new nature returned. Unconcerned with the presence of others, her father included; Hermione climbed onto the loveseat and straddled her mother. She wrapped her brunette fur-backed arms around an enthralled Emma and pulled herself into a tight embrace with her mother, who wrapped her arms about her daughter in return. Hands unconsciously slipping beneath Hermione's blouse, Emma felt soft fur beneath her palms and slowly and gently began exploring her daughter's velvety back; her actions drew mother and daughter into an even tighter embrace. Hermione's smallish bakeneko breasts, separated by two thin layers of cloth, pressed against Emma's larger endowments. The brown-furred cat-girl's purrs grew louder but even through the enhanced rumbling, mother and daughter could feel the other's rapidly beating heart and the synced rhythm they shared.

With her bakeneko in complete control, Hermione began to nuzzle and lick Emma's face and, without reticence by either party, the bakeneko's rough tongue tasted her mother's lips. Emma felt her pussy spasm as her daughter's insistent tongue requested passage; taboo forgotten, she parted her lips in acceptance and moaned as their tongues entwined.

"Whoa there Empress," Bella said as she, with Cissy's help, pulled Hermione from Mrs. Granger's not so innocent embrace. The sable-furred bakeneko's voice and actions stirred Mr. Granger from his lust-induced stupor; caused by the forbidden but far too enticing sight of his wife and daughter partaking in a surprisingly intimate and Sapphic indulgence. Cissy and Bellakits' intervention squelched Hermione's bakeneko; their empress, nibbling her bottom lip, looked aghast and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She stepped back, barely suppressing the panic that empathically washed over her cat-girl companions, and looked at her mother and father; she turned from her parents and grabbed her overnight bag. Her body began to fade out; the last thing the Grangers and the visiting cat-girls saw of Hermione was her blue catlike and tear-filled eyes.

"I . . . I . . ." Emma began but stopped, she couldn't believe what she had just done. She looked at Dan, who thankfully looked understanding, and collapsed against him when he put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Bella and Cissy squeezed themselves on either side of the Grangers and joined the embrace; neither Dan nor Emma flinched and seemed to welcome the support of their bakeneko guests.

A few anxious and silent minutes passed before Dan said with concern, "Sh-shouldn't one of you go after her?"

Cissy and Bella closed their eyes for a second. When they opened them Bella replied, "Hermione will be fine, she just needs some time alone to think; rarely does her bakeneko take such complete control over her but it will also soothe her in the end. A bigger concern remains: how do you two feel about what just happened and how does it make you feel towards your daughter?"

"It's . . . it's complicated," Emma replied.

Cissy stood, stepped away from the loveseat and turned to face the Grangers, she asked, "Do either of you feel dirty or unnatural or angry, Mr. and Mrs. Granger?"

They both shook their heads before Daniel answered for them, "I'm . . . I mean we're more confused than anything else, right now, and th-that is even more confusing considering what happened."

"What happened Mr. Granger?" Cissy asked.

"Our . . . our daughter . . ."

"Yes?" Cissy pressed.

"Hermione-gave-us-the-most-powerful-orgasms-we've-ever-had-in-our-very-Bohemian-lives," Dan replied in one long ramble, Emma's fiery blush showed that she agreed; he then proceeded to add, with more control, "Then our daughter straddles her mother's lap and snogs her senseless, while I watched like a voyeuristic old pervert. The only thing I'm finding really disturbing is that I don't find it disturbing; I think Emma agrees."

Emma nodded before saying, "Even though society declares that what Hermione and I did was immoral; I hunger to repeat it and to take it even further. As her mother that's very confusing and the flashes of intimacy, I got from her when we k-kissed, were like watching the money-shots of some rather kinky pornography, starring my daughter and you two . . . can she really put her hand way up there? Oh god, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that; I don't know what came over me?"

Bellakits giggled as she gave Emma a scalding look. She stood, joined her sister, turned and said teasingly, "You know what came—or is that cum—over you, Emma dear; do you want to experience it fist—I mean first—hand? I'm game if you and Dan are."

"Bella, control yourself," urged the blonde-furred bakeneko before she added without thinking, "I want to bed them too . . . s-sorry, I-I shouldn't have said that."

Stunned, Daniel and Emma Granger's jaws dropped as they stared at the two enticing cat-girls.

Bella stifled another snicker, then said, "Please understand, Mr. and Mrs. Granger; through Hermione we've come to know you very well. You see, we bakenekos have a telepathic and empathic connection to each other; we can know each other's thoughts and memories and we can feel what each other is feeling—yes even those types of feelings, almost as intensely as our own—unless we consciously suppress or block them. In our time together, which is pretty much whenever you two have not been at home and then some, we've learned what it means to be part of a loving and accepting family. Neither Cissy nor I nor our sister Andromeda ever experience any type of warmth growing up. Sure, we were spoiled princesses and pretty much got whatever we wanted but we never got love. When we married, Cissy and I moved from one loveless environment to another, while our smarter sister broke from this repetitive cycle and married the wizard she loved. Before Hermione and our . . . bakenekoing, we considered ourselves deserving of our pureblooded entitlements and felt the proper disdain for our properly disowned sister; we know who took the better deal now. The best thing I ever did for myself—and Cissy, I suppose—was to selfishly kidnap my empress and become hers; by doing this, I learned what love is and what love can drive one to do."

"I'm not certain I want to know what you are implying, Bella," Emma said nervously, "but please tell us, what is Hermione planning? We've seen this type of drive in our daughter before and we are worried about her. She's been so secretive since coming home from Hogwarts and we've been concerned that her path will lead her away from us. What can you tell us about this?"

Bellakits took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders before replying, "Hermione has learned the truth about Magical England and feels that neither she nor Harry Potter should be responsible for its future. Especially, when you consider its treatment of two children who should've been allowed to be just that, children. She rejected the prophecy that two old fools believed and acted upon to dire consequence; thankfully, our empress has convinced the younger fool that acting within this prophecy will not be to his benefit. Hermione, by revealing who and what she is to the Dark Lord Tom . . ."

". . . The Dark Lord Tom?" Emma said, trying not to giggle.

"Voldemort started life as Tom Riddle; 'The Dark Lord Tom' is not very intimidating so he adopted a stupid anagram in a fit of self-promotion," the sable-furred bakeneko said with a fang-displaying smile before resuming. "As I was saying, Hermione revealed that she is a Supreme Magus and then proceeded to extort some concessions from the most fearsome Dark Lord in centuries. What happened at the Ministry was enough for Tom to take her seriously; the fact that he didn't intimidate her—actually quite the opposite really; it was rather bruising to his ego—for even an iota convinced him that our empress is not one to be trifled with. Once she had the Dark Lord's attention, she put her proposal on the table: she would remove Harry Potter from the equation and let the Ministry, Dumbledore and Voldemort settle things amongst themselves, without interference. In exchange for stepping away, the Dark Lord agreed to leave the young Lord Potter alone and—acting for my sake—gave Narcissa Malfoy to Hermione . . ."

". . . I can't say I approve of bartering for people," Daniel commented offhandedly.

"It's the way thing still are in Wizarding England," Cissy replied without shame, "Hermione acted within the framework of established magical society; she doesn't have to agree with it, though, and she doesn't. Besides, I'm fine with it so why shouldn't she be fine with it too and believe me; I'm in a far better place now than I was and I know that I'm not just pretty arm-candy for my mistress' to put on display for appearance's sake. To Hermione I'm a person who has a mind of her own; I'm not just a pussy—well, I suppose I am a pussy but that's okay—to fuck in an attempt to boost her shallow ego. I'm having a lot more fun too—I'm glad a bakeneko's body is built for sex—but I'm also part of something bigger; something important. I feel like a giddy teen witch again . . . I hope we save Draco."

The last was spoken in little more than a whisper but her poignancy was obvious; Bella draped her arm around Cissy's shoulder, gave her a sister a hug and said reassuringly, "Hermione has promised to try and save him, regardless of how she feels about my nephew; all we can do is wait and see. Besides, with the proper attitude adjustment; Draco will make a very beddable tom, meow."

Bella kissed the top of her sister's head, turned back to the Grangers and said, "Now, let us address the hippogriff in the room, shall we?"

"Hippogriff?" Emma and Dan said in unison, "what hippogriff?"

"Hermione, you two and the feelings that are confusing the three of you," she replied forthrightly, "First off and most importantly; Hermione, Cissy and I are not human, we are bakeneko. This means that your daughter is no longer your daughter by blood, period: no ifs, ands or buts; fait accompli, however you want to say it: it is still a fact. You must mull that over that and understand what it means—Dan; Emma—before you can make any decisions about today and about the future. Secondly, Hermione will not be returning to Hogwarts and intends to talk to Harry on the Hogwarts Express; she'll ask him to join us then."

"What if he says no?" Daniel asked. This little issue seemed a rather obvious lynchpin in his daughter's plans, which could very well make or break them; he felt certain, nonetheless, that Hermione wouldn't have missed that.

"She'll take him anyways because she knows that if Harry stays: He. Will. Die. and likely horribly," Bella said with conviction. "She also knows that whether Harry survives or not, in his 'predestined encounter' with Voldemort will not matter. Winning or losing will only change the timeline; not the outcome. He will become feared, once the fickle, hero-worshiping mass of witches and wizards have grown bored, become distracted by something else or hear someone shout louder; you can trust me on that. Once that happens, the Ministry will then paint Harry Potter as the next 'dark lord' to protect themselves and to counter any influence he might have on our society. The comfortable and privileged have no interest in doing away with the status quo, they like it; it protects their immense power and wealth and anything that threatens it will be kicked to the curb. They will convict Harry on some vague and trumped up charges and then will cast him through the Veil, if he is lucky; if not, he'll spend the remainder of his days entertaining dementers at Azkaban. The hero Lord Harry Potter will become nothing more than a footnote in history, which I suppose—to them, the guardians of the status quo—is far better than him becoming a martyr."

Emma and Dan exchanged glances before Emma said, "They've already tried, haven't they? Hermione made mention of some trouble Harry got into last summer but she was unable to go into any detail at the time. We never asked her about it later, either."

"Harry was brought before a quorum of Wizengamot members and adjudicated, in-camera, for the underage use of magic and for violating the Statute of Secrecy for doing magic in the presence of a muggle," Cissy said to the Grangers' shock and horror. "This happened after he defended himself and his cousin—who knows about magic of course—from dementors, dementors sent by a senior member of the Ministry on behalf of the Minister and his 'plausible deniability'; Hermione and Harry later discovered 'the who'. Had Dumbledore not intervened, Harry's wand would've been snapped without due process and they would've packed him off to Azkaban. I feel pretty certain that if that had happened, it wouldn't have been long before someone conveniently 'forgot' to close his cell door; thus leaving him to the tender mercies of the dementors."

"For all her crimes," Bella succinctly added, "it was this, more than any other reason; that saw Doloris Umbridge join my husband and brother-in-law in their rather gruesome demise. Hermione's inner feline is really quite vindictive when it comes to the tom she wants to father her future and first kittens."

Taken aback, the Grangers—feeling it was far too soon to be discussing grand-kittens, especially their little girl's—were very troubled by that little revelation. In a poorly worded attempt to lighten the mood, Dan asked facetiously, "Has Hermione got another tom in mind for her second batch of kittens?"

Bella looked at Dan in a most disturbing manner, smiled salaciously and replied, "Of course . . . and that brings us back to the hippogriff."

"Sorry?" Emma said.

"As I said, Hermione the bakeneko is no longer Hermione the human Witch Granger," Bellakits reminded, "By changing into a cat-girl all her familial genes—her words, not mine—have been scrambled. That means, as uncomfortable as this sounds: it is impossible for her to 'in breed' until she has kittens of her own."

"Oh my," Emma said softly and glanced at her husband; words could not describe the look on his face beyond simply 'uncomfortable'. She understood that; after what had happened between her and her daughter, earlier, she was feeling the same. It was troubling, especially how she felt about it; ethical questions aside it had a certain naughty appeal and that was something she found hard to swallow: her . . . their past bohemian lifestyle notwithstanding.

"I . . . I think Emma and I have a pretty good idea where this is going; I'm not even sure how to approach . . . that," Dan said uncomfortably but his tone held no out-right rejection, which Cissy and Bella were thankful for; it would make their task easier.

"Just . . . um . . . academically speaking," Emma hesitantly began, "if Dan and I choose to-to . . . um . . . join this . . . this. . . whatever this is; wh-what will h-happen?"

Cissy, the former perfectly self-controlled pureblood princess, pounced to the place beside Emma and gave her a hug; this reminded Mrs. Granger that this—sexy, she thought unwelcomely and unexpectedly as her panties grew uncomfortably damper—cat-girl embracing her was not wearing any underthings beneath her very appealing and scanty attire. (She endeavored, unsuccessfully, to not ask herself; I wonder if I can get away with wearing that?) That thought led to more thoughts that she knew she had to stifle before she couldn't stop herself and that that didn't bother her was rather bothersome in itself; this also left her painfully aware of how much Dan and her had to talk about later. She further realized—rather unhelpfully—just how hard it would be for her or Dan to control themselves, if they continued to associate with these creatures; these bakenekos. In all, it had been a very long time since Emma had felt this confused over something that was at once so simple and yet so very complicated.

"If you join us," Bella replied, her voice drawing Emma from her unproductive bout of self-reflection, "Hermione—or Cissy or myself, if that makes you more comfortable—will turn you into a bakeneko; that means we bite you hard enough to draw blood, which . . . well, um . . . for all that sounds painful it doesn't hurt . . . at all. Once becoming bakeneko, you'll gain our racial and inherent abilities. These include increased strength, agility, dexterity and speed along with a cat's hearing, sight, sense of smell and that special sixth sense that cats seem to have about their surroundings. On the magical side: the ability to Fade (teleportation over distance to familiar locations), invisibility, pouncing (short range, very fast teleportation; very useful in combat, it lets you instantly reach your enemy or get behind them). You'd also be able to summon a fang (a sharp bone dagger) and/or a claw (a bone, dart-like range-weapon, which can be guided by your mind with practice).

"You'd also gain a bakeneko's three forms," Bellakits continued, "wholly, yet large, feline body with all a cat's abilities and a little magic too boot (the way Cissy and I looked when we arrived), a part cat body (the bakeneko's true form) and a near human, but for the cat-eyes and fangs, body. On the mental front: empathy and telepathy between other bakenekos, the ability to communicate with felines in general, a near perfect memory and an inherent ability to shield your mind from intrusions like legilimency (a form of wizard mind-reading) or mind altering magics (like compulsions, memory charms or spells meant to control another). Unfortunately, you'll never gain the ability to use the type of magic that witches and wizards use. As a bonus: you'll both be about twenty-five physically, gain an extended life-span without fearing disease or debilitation and a near insatiable appetite for lots and lots of incredible, varied and kinky sex with—hopefully—a fair few willing and eager playmates who are as willing and eager as you. Oh yeah, you'll also lose the ability to feel regret, guilt, shame and/or jealousy; you'll be a cat after all, no self-respecting pussy ever allows such things to intrude upon their lives."

Daniel scratched the back of his tilted head and said, "That's quite the sales pitch, is there a downside?"

"Not so much for Hermione, Bella and I; other than the general disdain many witches and wizards feel for magical creatures," the blonde-furred cat-girl explained, "For you and Emma, since neither of you have magic to hide your eyes or fangs, things might be more difficult. I suppose you'd have to limit your interactions with non-magical friends, families and co-workers beyond those you'd trust if they found out Hermione was a witch."

"It's a lot to think about," Emma said very noncommittally, "I suppose Dan, Hermione and I will have to sit down as a family and discuss what we have to gain or lose on either side of the equation; how much time do we have?"

"I suppose by August 31st would be best," replied the sable-furred bakeneko, "After that we may be leaving the country but that depends a lot on factors that are very hard to predict."

"Where would you go?" Daniel Granger asked, he and Emma didn't like saying goodbye to Hermione for the ten months of the year for her schooling; leaving the country was another thing entirely for the unusually close knit and essentially kinless family that were the Grangers.

"We've been told that Japan's Magical Community might welcome our return whole-heartedly," Bella explained, "and Japan—specifically Kyoto—is where the traditional throne of the Bakeneko resides. We are waiting for answers to our very surreptitious and initial inquiries; so far, all we've heard is that our questions have been received and nothing else beyond that one quasi-official communique."

"Well," Emma Granger began, "I think, for now, we need to table this discussion and call it a day. It's getting late, can Dan and I interest you in dinner? It wouldn't be much, we were only planning to order take-out from our favorite fish and chip shop; since Hermione was heading to the Weasleys' for a couple of days, it's Harry's birthday after all and she wants to be with him; the why is doubly clear now. We've suspected it for a while now but this confirms things, we're glad it's not that Weasley lad, he's hurt our Hermione far too often with his thoughtless words and actions. He's hurt Harry too, according to some of Hermione's letters. So, will fish and chips be alright?"

"Actually, about that and-and after," Cissy replied haltingly, "before Hermione ran off to think, she was going to ask if Bella and I could stay until she got back. We don't want to impose and you won't even see us if you don't want to, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, but Hermione would really prefer if you allowed us to remain until she gets back. Our empress, and by extension me and Bella, are worried about your safety. We don't think the Dark Lord will try anything, since he wants Harry Potter out of the way and if he did anything our empress would likely cancel their deal. Likewise, I'm fairly certain he'd rather avoid angering a Supreme Magus, but he's always been notoriously unpredictable; especially since his rebirth. Nonetheless, he might think that doing something to you two would be advantageous to him and since the concept of love and family are . . . well . . . alien to him, he might misjudge Hermione's reactions to such things; he did kill his own father and grandparents—when he was still in school—so his concept of familial relationships is definitely skewed. Likewise, I think your daughter would like you to become comfortable with us; we're going to be in her life for a very long time and she wants us all to get along but that is secondary to protecting you at the moment."

Dan and Emma exchanged another glance and another soundless conversation as Bellakits and Cissy looked on. Both cat-girls, over the course of very little time, had grown amazed by how much silent communication passed between the Grangers on a near continuous basis. Magical, was the only way they could describe it and it made them think about their own former, weak and lacking relationships; it was all rather humbling and envy inducing. In addition, their introduction to Mr. and Mrs. Granger had also explained Hermione's near insistence that her parents join them; after this afternoon, Cissy and Bella shared their empress' desire and each felt something that—shockingly as it were—was related to kittens.

"I suppose we can make up the guest rooms in a jiffy," Emma said, sounding rather thankful, "and, in all honesty, it'll be nice to get another perspective on magic and magical society. Me and Dan have discovered that muggles with questions are not very welcome and that's an understatement; only Tom at the Leaky Cauldron openly speaks to us about what is really happening. If we hadn't mentioned it before, I'll mention it now; if we had talked to him before signing Hermione's Hogwarts' admission forms, our daughter would've attended Beauxbatons . . ."

". . . and she would have gotten a far better education, I'm sad to say," Cissy interjected with surprising bitterness, "Pureblooded politics is the only Hogwarts' major that seems to count for anything these days and it's a very exclusive alma-mater. I can't believe I never saw it before I belonged to Hermione; I was so intentionally self-blinded and didn't do my son any favors by enrolling him at Hogwarts. Maybe I should have listened to Lucius but I think, if anything, Durmstrang would've been worse; besides I've never liked Igor Karkaroff or the way he looked at me: it made me feel dirty."

"It's still odd hearing someone say that," Dan observed, Emma nodded, Bella and Cissy looked puzzled; Dan noticed their confusion and said, "You know . . . being owned by someone and being okay with it; it's a lot to take in. I expect that's also something Emma and I will have to consider: giving ourselves to our daughter—mind, body and soul—was not something we ever read about in any parental guides. Well, we don't need to make our decision today; so why don't I run upstairs and prepare the guest rooms. I'm sure you three would love a girl to girl chat without a guy's prying ears overhearing . . . are you sure Hermione's okay?"

Bella closed her eyes for a second again and then said, "Yes, she's much better now; much calmer too. About those rooms, Dan; only prepare one, Cissy and I sleep together," she tittered before adding with a sultry purr, "You don't even have to prepare the one, stud, if you don't want to. You look like a tom who can keep pretty pussies warm and fed; I'd be happy to make a bed big enough—but not too big—for all four of us."

"Bella! Bad kitty; behave yourself!" Cissy exclaimed, more facetiously than angry. It was hard to contain her giggles, though; the looks on Dan and Emma's faces were hilarious.

Cissy? What's wrong; what's got your tail in a twist? The blonde-furred bakeneko heard Hermione in her mind. It's Bella, she thought back. What has she done now? Cissy heard Hermione think in resignation. She's . . . um . . . hitting on your mum and dad very non-Slytherinly, she replied. . . . Non-Slytherinly? Her empress queried in uncertainty; Cissy replied. Without subtly or cunning, my love, the golden-furred cat-girl answered and felt Hermione's smile, before hearing her reply. Oh . . . How are they taking it? They're blushing, Cissy answered. That's it? Hermione thought in reply. That's it, Cissy thought back. What brought on Bella's usual and outspoken wantonness, she promised to behave herself, the brown-furred bakeneko rejoined. We were discussing sleeping arrangements, answered the younger sister. I'm sorry I bailed before I spoke with mum and dad about that, Cissy. It's fine, Hermione, your parents were very understanding; for muggles they are very well-informed about our society, Cissy told her empress.

Being 'well-informed' is a Granger Family trait, it should be our family's motto, Cissy felt the warmth in Hermione's reply; before she heard her empress ask with trepidation, what about that . . . that other thing—you know—before I scurried off in an embarrassingly non-Gryffindorian manner; how are they dealing with that? Cissy thought in riposte. Confused more than anything else—I think—their duality on the matter is quite understandable; their lack of anger or shame is very surprising though. It's hard for me to believe that parents, after being . . . um . . . mentally fucked to . . . well . . . their 'la petite mort'—which was quite amazing to watch, by the way—by their daughter, who then proceeded to nearly physically bang her mother on the loveseat next to her father; could be so . . . so laissez-faire about it. Our mother would've seen us dead before we crossed the threshold on our way out, if it had been her; I don't want to think about our father's response, though: he was an unpleasant and lecherous old creep with few, if any, morals. The light-furred cat-girl thought in continuation. If it had been him, Bella, Andi and I would likely have become mothers of his children/grandchildren, before we graduated from Hogwarts. Even if you hadn't become a bakeneko, your Dad is a much better specimen of sire than our father could ever be; take what you will from that, Hermione.

So, Cissy added, will you be back before going to the Weasley's. Hermione replied. No, I'm going to Fade to the Playground and then go to the Leaky Cauldron; I'll use the Floo from there, Cissy. As for Bella, and her proclivities, I'm not sure if I should ask you curtail them, for my parents' sake, or let her have free reign. I'll leave it for you to decide, pet; you're there after all and you're likely more objective than I could ever be. I told you that my parents are anything but prudish, Hermione added, but this is something far beyond however bohemian they might've been in their youth and—undoubtedly—taboo in the extreme. Hermione finished. Cissy thought in response, I can't say for certain, Hermione, but I get the feeling that the idea is far more enticing than your mum and dad are ready to admit; it's as if they've been seeking something new and exciting and this is definitely new and exciting. Hermione thoughtfully replied. I haven't spent near as much time as I should've with my parents, over the last few years, but I've heard a few off-handed comments about selling their surgery and retiring early. There's been a fair bit of talk about traveling, too; it's not like their savings are meager and the proceeds from the sale of their practice would be a substantial addition to it.

I think, when all is said and done, thought the brown-furred cat-girl, that by me being a witch has advanced their timetable by more than a few years; they know I'll never take over their dental practice, now, even before becoming bakeneko. The blonde-furred cat-girl thought in response. So, I guess becoming bakenekos has a certain appeal already, to Dan and Emma, and it would provide them with opportunities they would've never thought they'd have but do you think they'll be able to accept the consequences that being bakeneko entails? The absent cat-girl replied. I guess only time will tell and it's a decision my mum and dad will have to make without my help; I'm glad you and Bella are there, I'd just make a mess of things and my lack of self-control might frighten my parents.

Cissy retorted after a mental chuckle. I know it's strange, but your actions show how much you love your parents, Hermione; your bakeneko just expresses love differently and more carnally, I understand that: look what I'm doing with my sister and my thoughts for Draco have become anything but maternal of late. Attempting to reassure her, Hermione thought in reply. I understand, Cissy, and I'll do anything I can to bring him into the fold for you . . . he is an attractive tom, after all, just unpleasant and, don't take this the wrong way; I think he and Harry would look quite . . . delectable together, meow!—but I fear he will only join in the manner I took Bella. The former Narcissa Malfoy replied. It would be for his and our best but I understand that you don't want to impose yourself on the unwilling; like you said, 'time will tell'. Hermione, mentally silent for a moment while she mulled this over, then repeated. 'Time will tell'. I suppose we'll have to go with that for now. Either way, give my love to Bella and—but not too forwardly—to my mum and dad, pet; I should get Fading. Farewell, my empress, I'll contact you if something comes up so please have fun. By the way, Cissy thought offhandedly. Yes, came Hermione's reply. I don't really trust Molly Weasley; the Prewett's have been notoriously dishonorably in the past, be warry of what you and Harry eat and drink while there. If you can, check everything; especially for Harry, he doesn't have a bakeneko's ability to protect himself from potions and compulsions. The fair-furred cat-girl warned. Thank you Cissy; I'll keep that in mind. See you in a couple of days. With that, Cissy felt Hermione close their connection.

"You were speaking to Hermione, weren't you Cissy," Emma suddenly asked.

"How . . . how did you know?"

"We've noticed that you and Bella get this distant look on your faces when you . . . think to each other," Daniel Granger replied, "I she okay?"

Cissy smiled at the two concerned parents and said, "She's fine. She sends her love and said she was heading to the Weasleys."

"I'm glad Hermione has friends, now," Emma said, "but me and Dan have wished she spent more time at home when she's off."

Bellakits smiled and said, "I doubt that will be an issue from now; her circumstances are far different than they were only a few months ago and she really wants you and Dan to be part of her . . . boudoir of sexy kitties; I'd like that too, meow."

"Bella!" Cissy exclaimed again before saying, "Sorry Dan; Emma, my sister has never been one for self-control and I wish I could tell you she's only teasing but . . . well . . . she really isn't. I know it might be hard, but if you can; please, try to ignore her words and her lack of social graces in manners pertaining to . . . intimate relationships."

"W-we'll keep th-that in mind, Cissy," Dan replied; he and Emma were red-faced again and feeling rather steamy: he still needed to change his briefs, too, but he wasn't about to say anything about that; he figured Emma—especially Emma—felt the same. Thinking about things, Dan realized that he'd not seen Emma look so fuckably post-coital or so blissfully submissive for further play in a very long time. He was looking forward to bedtime and had it not been for their exotic cat-girl visitors—especially that black-furred one—dinner would've been delayed or maybe skipped in its entirety.

Hermione, shocked by her total lack of self-control towards her mother and father, had fled her home without any clear destination in mind. In the end, it wasn't surprising that, when she Faded in, she found herself in the one place she felt safe for the past few years: near her favorite table, located at the back of the library in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This repository of arcane knowledge was dark, silent and empty in a way it never felt—even when she had snuck in after hours—when school was in session; it was kind of creepy too. Nevertheless, she pushed that thought from her mind and sat in her favorite—not too hard, not too soft; with good back support—chair and stared blankly between the stacks.

"I never thought I'd be the one to disprove the 'no apparition' claims written in Hogwarts: A History," she muttered to herself, "I suppose, the wards were never designed with bakenekos in mind. Merlin's wand, they probably didn't even know what a bakeneko was when they built Hogwarts so they'd know nothing about Fading. The wards don't stop house-elves either, so I guess bypassing them isn't something unique to a bewitching, mischievous and sensual catlike yōkai from Japanese folklore like me."

Hermione tilted her head back, closed her eyes and let her mind begin to sort through the contradictory thoughts and feelings, which were raging through her mind. She had thought she had overcome such mental turmoil earlier in the summer but her rather explicit behavior with her parents, followed by anxiety over her conduct; seemed to indicate she'd yet to come to terms, fully, with her new nature. She was thankful that her former—pre end of fifth year—self decided to make an appearance when it did; otherwise she would've ravished her mother—not that she had seemed too unwilling, Hermione considered on reflection—right there on the loveseat with her father and Cissy watching. Bella would've likely cheered and urged her on but that was just Bella; she had fully given herself over to her inner-bakeneko. As for Hermione's inner-bakeneko; it was pretty angry and frustrated with Hermione's inner-human at the moment and demanding to be appeased. Sitting at her favorite table wasn't helping either; she had—more than once—indulged her little dirty fantasy with eager sticky fingers while worrying that Irma Pince, the Grand Custodian and Matron of the Stacks, or someone else might catch her: it had nearly happened more than once, which had made it increasingly arousing and satisfying. Hmmph, she thought, chastising her inner-human to her inner-bakeneko's delight, I guess taboo does get my motor purring; it's just too soon with mum and dad. I'll be less inhibited once they have their very own kitty-ears and tails, I'm sure.

Having come to—at least—a temporary accord between her bakeneko and her human, Hermione realized she really shouldn't remain where she was; the last thing she wanted was for either professors Dumbledore or Snape to discover her here or what she'd become. She may've gone toe to toe with Voldemort already but that didn't mean she wanted to face Dumbledore this soon, he'd likely derail her plans for Harry. Shit! She suddenly thought, silently tsking herself for her language. Snape likely knows about Bellakits, Cissy and me; I hope he hasn't tattled to Dumbledore yet. Damn, I should've thought of that sooner! I'd best get out of here on the off-chance that my presence is being reported to someone; I'm sure Filch is still in residence and I don't want to be seen.

The brown-furred bakeneko rose to her feet and was about to Fade to the Playground when she realized that this was likely the last time she'd be the library—or Hogwarts—for quite some time. It made her feel a little melancholy and since she'd likely be safe for a few minutes she decided to wander a bit—for old time's sake—before making her way to the Burrow. She silently padded through the library, turned a corner and saw her least favorite table in the library. It had always struck Hermione as rather odd that she didn't like this table; except for its location it was almost identical to hers but she could never really sit at it: there was always a chill or an unfelt draft that made it uncomfortable, the cat-girl now understood why.

"Myrtle?" She addressed the ghost-girl sitting—floating—at the table, an open book before, "I didn't know you could read."

"Hermione, is that you?" Myrtle snickered, "I thought Madame Pomfry cured your kitty-condition in second year and of course I can read! I'm in Ravenclaw after all."

Hermione snickered and replied, "She did, I've since had a relapse; this is me now and of course I knew you could read, I just didn't think you were able turn pages and stuff."

"Helena taught me how, it took a long time too," the ghost replied happily; a rarity that few had heard, "Interacting with the material world is the hardest thing a ghost can learn to do; most don't bother. So tell me, why are you here; what happened? You're cuter this time around; not as fuzzy, can I scratch you behind your ears? My hand might be cold, mind you. Too bad about your boobs, they look like they've shrunk."

"If you want, you can try and I don't think I'll mind the cold hands on my hair/fur," the cat-girl replied with a smile; Myrtle floated from the table, hovered in front of Hermione and reached with her translucent hand: her touch was cold but not unbearably so. Purring, the brown-furred feline witch resumed with vibrato, "Anyways, the smaller boobs don't really bother me since I'm a bakeneko now; I'm a cat-like creature that hails from Japan. A wand turned me into this and I've got all these neat cat-like powers now . . ."

". . . your Supreme Magus ascension happened too," Myrtle surprisingly interrupted, "Blimey, I never thought that would happen before graduation, by Morgana, you're lucky Hermione, you beat the odds; potential does not guarantee ascension, other factors are always in play. Draco Malfoy and his friends better watch out next term, you could swat them like bugs and all Dumbledore could do is ask you, politely, to leave Hogwarts; it's not like he'll be able to force you. And I thought you said you hailed from Crawly; not Japan."

Hermione, butting her head into Myrtle's ghostly hand, said, "You knew about the whole 'Supreme Magus' thing the whole time, why didn't you tell me? We talked about everything: boys, Harry, classes, stuff like that, I must've told you everything about me, since my third year; after all, your washrom was the best place to use my time-turner and when Harry and Ron weren't speaking to me, you were always there for me."

Myrtle scratched a little harder and was rewarded by a louder purr; she said to the cat-girl, "Like I said, potential doesn't guarantee ascension. Maybe one in a thousand potentials become Supreme Magi; no one really knows why. So, Hermione, what now?"

Hermione replied, "Well, I'm not returning for NEWTs, it's pointless now, so I guess I'll not have to worry about either Draco or Dumbledore interfering with my schooling any longer. Actually, I intend to grab Harry and maybe a few others and vanish; in return for taking Harry with me, Voldemort has agreed to leave us alone as long, providing we don't interfere. I've got a set of sisters now, thanks to that deal; I guess that's something else that has happened this summer, Myrtle.

"Remember our talks about sexuality and preference," the cat-girl continued, "I've come to terms with mine thanks to the bakeneko: I solemnly swear I'm up to no good with either gender, as long as they're attractive. By the way my ghostly besty, I've always wondered but never asked, because I know you're sensitive about it but are you trapped in Hogwarts forever?"

Myrtle stopped patting Hermione and looked like she was about to cry. With a sniff, she replied, "Pretty much, I can go about a mile beyond my toilet but if I go too far I get snapped back—think elastic band and you get the general idea—I don't like how that feels so I don't let it happen. I don't know what will transpire once age finally conquers Hogwarts but that's likely a long ways off. Still, I really wanted to travel—once the war was over that is—before I died; death tends to make one's plans rather moot regrettably. I do hope once, if ever, I pass on to my Next Great Adventure I'll meet up with Tom Riddle again; I intend to kick his bollocks into mushy peas."

"I'm sorry to hear that, dreams shouldn't be shattered and regret can be terminal; I wish I could help, Myrtle," the bakeneko said with earnest sympathy, "I suppose you're the first in line to mash Tom's bollocks and Ginny Weasley will be right behind you I'm sure."

"What can you do? It's just the way things are," Myrtle said in cynical forbearance, "I once read about an exorcism enchantment—I think the book was from the restricted section; it's borderline necromancy—that will draw in and trap a residual spirit. The way I understood it, the enchanted object becomes the spirit's new anchor; in essence, the ghost then haunts the object instead of a place. The book didn't go into any details about the enchantment and it didn't even hint where the information could be found."

Hermione sighed, she was going to miss the ghost but she promised, "I'll keep my eyes and ears open and if I ever find it; I'll come back for you. Hold on for a moment, Myrtle, someone's upset."

"Cissy? What's wrong; what's got your tail in a twist?" Hermione spoke her thoughts aloud, to Myrtle's confusion. The ghostly Ravenclaw watched her now silent friend and; by the way, Hermione's face might animate, her ears might twitch or her tail might wag—from time to time—it looked as if the cat-girl was having an intense but silent conversation with someone. Who's Cissy, Myrtle wondered.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle," the bakeneko apologized after a few moments of silence, "telepathy with my playmates is one of the neat powers I mentioned."

"You have playmates? That must be fun, you're more relaxed now," stated the she-specter, "Even your speech patterns are more casual now and you sound happier; you might want to pay attention to things like that or people will start asking questions you might not want to answer, kitty."

Hermione smiled in thanks and said, "I'll keep that in mind, thanks; I'll look for that spell too but I should get going. It's Harry's birthday and I'm going to the Weasley's for a couple of days to be with him."

Myrtle frowned and said, "I don't really like Ronald Weasley; he wasn't very nice to me or you for that matter. Harry's sweet though; I told him he could share my toilet if something happened during that damned tournament. Um, Hermione . . . about that spell or enchantment, you might not need it; you're a Supreme Witch after all. Intent is more important to you than technique or fancy words and you've always had incredible focus; you may be able to do it without a spell."

"Myrtle . . . are you asking what I think you are?"

The spirit nodded.

"I don't know, it might be dangerous and I don't want to hurt a close friend."

"I don't think you could hurt me, Hermione," Myrtle responded in eager encouragement, "since what you'd do is not done by using specifically structured and focused words or actions, there'd be no lingering bindings or errant magic to harm me: it will work or it won't work, if I understand all the magical theory I've read of the decades."

"Are you sure?"

The see through Ravenclaw nodded again, "I'm pretty certain and it's worth the risk to me; Hogwarts is nice but I'm pretty bored these days and since you're not coming back, I'll only have Luna to talk to and she can be exhausting: even to a ghost."

"Actually, Myrtle . . . Luna is one of the people I want to take with me and Harry," the cat-girl said softly, "she's the only other one I'm certain of; I hope she will come. Her uncle said he wants to join me because he's bored with the politics and his work in the Department of Mysteries."

"Oh, if Luna goes with you then I'll be all alone again, probably for years," the spirit said miserably, "Before you and Luna, the last friend I had was Bellatrix Black. She was nearly as depressed as me and, for a while; I felt rather certain she would join me in my toilet. Bellatrix really hated those 'Ancient and Most Noble House of Black' expectations she was expected to live up to; she wanted her own life and go into spell research. Would you believe, in her sixth year, she invented a spell that forced a ghost to orgasm? It was so funny watching her use it on Sir Nicholas; he's always been so haughty, prim and proper, that sure took him down a peg or two. I was even more moanier—there for a while— when I heard what happened to her after graduation; her sisters only did marginally better, although Andromeda Black married the man she loved; she was disowned for it, lamentably."

"Yeah, the Black sisters really got screwed by their parents," Hermione agreed, "Anyways, Myrtle, I'm likely beginning to push my luck and I shouldn't stay much longer; if you want me to try what you've asked we'd better get on with it. What do you think I need or need to do?"

"Hmm, I suppose we should go to my washroom since that's where I'm anchored," the ghost replied a little giddily, "Can you disillusion yourself? I can keep watch on what's ahead but the portraits will see you and they're all such dreadful gossips; Dumbledore would hear about you for sure."

"I can do better than that Myrtle," the brown-furred bakeneko playfully admonished, "I'll meet you in your washroom; I bet I'll get there before you do, too . . . three, two, one, go!"

As soon as Hermione said go, she began to fade away; surprised, the last this the ghost saw we're the cat-girl's sapphire eyes and then they vanished too. Since she didn't need to lead a fleshy through the hallowed hallways of Hogwarts she opted for the express route and essentially fell through the æther and into her toilet, with a splash. Myrtle exited her cubical just has Hermione—blue eyes first as usual—faded in.

"I beat you," Myrtle crowed playfully, "but we'll call it a tie if you want. That's a cool way to travel though. Figures, only you or Harry can so easily ignore commonly held opinions like 'no apparition on Hogwarts' grounds'."

Hermione grinned and said, "No, you beat me fair and square; it's your win. It's not that special, really, house-elves do it all the time; witches and wizards just tend to stupidly forget about them and their quite substantial powers because . . . well . . . elves aren't witches or wizards. I'm glad I'm getting away from that 'half-breeds and creatures are inferior' attitude but I kind of feel like I'm abandoning my magical kin."

"Don't feel like that, Hermione; no matter how hard you try, things won't change until the current system collapses," the spirit soothed, "once that happens you can come back and plant the creature equality-laws you want to enact in fertile soil."

"Thanks Myrtle that makes me feel a little better. So, what do you think we need for this ritual or whatever?"

"Um . . . something that we can be use as the target receptacle, something durable preferably; it'll be my new home after all and I don't want something that the big bad wolf can huff and puff and blow down: so brick over straw or sticks if you may."

Hermione twittered; then offered, "I'm wearing an emerald eyed gold kitten pendant; will that do? It's on a pretty hefty gold chain too, so it should be easy to keep safe and less likely to be lost."

"Hmm, that has a certain appeal; you know . . . living—in a manner of speaking—forevermore in your cleavage, kitty. That sounds like it might be a blast."

"Fine, fine, whatever," the bakeneko said dismissively as she blushed; she then asked, "What do we do now?"

"I suppose we should maybe put the receptacle on my toilet," the ghost said but it was obvious she was making up things as they go along. "Now, according to what I had read, the enchantment is like a—I don't know—like a spirit vacuum, maybe. Since we don't have the spell, I won't be drawn into the vessel. I guess you can try pushing my spirit with your magic and focus your intent on the desired outcome. I know that's kind of vague but that's the best I can offer, sorry."

"It sounds reasonably simple and the lack of complicated steps should make it easy for me to focus my intent and magic on the 'outcome'; just like you said. Since the most severe conclusion is nothing more than failure—I hope—we may as well give it a go. Are you certain you want to try this, Myrtle?"

"As certain as I can be, given the circumstances; let's head to my toilet."

The bakeneko and the ghost silently crossed the floor and entered Myrtle's cubical. Hermione removed her pendant, hung it on the toilet's valve handle and asked, "Ready?"

The ghost gave a nervous nod and said, "Ready."

"Okay then, here we go," the cat-girl warned.

Hermione then reached out with her magic and felt for Myrtle. Once she felt the ghost's presence press back, the bakeneko visualized enveloping the spirit's essence with her magic. She succeeded and for a moment Hermione's mind filled with a multitude of memories that belonged to Myrtle. She tried to ignore them as best she could because she didn't want to intrude on what might've been a number of her firend's private moments. Once Hermione felt her magic swathing Myrtle's soul, she watched her friend's manifestation lose cohesion. The ghost turned into a misty greenish cloud. The brown-furred kitty-witch began to push the cloud towards the receiving cat pendant and when it reached, Hermione shoved with all her magical might, intending to meld the spirit and pendant together. Following a bright flash, Myrtle's essence began to flow into the receptacle and when the last of it vanished, the bakeneko sensed a pulse of magic that felt like a midsummer's zephyr. Hermione took a deep breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and felt magically tired. Myrtle was gone and all that remained was the cat pendant hanging on the valve handle, the bakeneko did notice the amulet had a greenish glimmer surrounding it. Hermione retrieved her pendant and looked at it inquisitively.

"Myrtle . . ." she called and then called again, "Myrtle . . ."

On her second call, Hermione noticed mist flow from the pendant. It grew in volume until a Myrtle sized cloud was hovering before her. The cloud began to change shape, taking on a more human appearance, before it focused into the transparent Ravenclaw that everyone recognized as 'Moaning' Myrtle Warren. Unfortunately and distractingly—to Hermione—Myrtle reformed minus her Ravenclaw uniform, her glasses but with a few additions. The Bakeneko blushed but had to stare.

"Do I look funny?" the ghost asked in near panic when she saw the cat-girl gazing oddly at her.

Hermione conjured a mirror and held it so the spirit might see her reflection.

"What happened to my clothes!" she exclaimed, "I-I'm n-naked! I look like you now!"

"I don't know what to say, Myrtle," Hermione replied, awkwardly her inner-bakeneko had to make a comment though, "you have pretty nice body, Miss Warren; I like the ears and tail. I've got to figure out a way for us to interact . . . if you get my meaning."

"Hermione! How can I go out in public 'not' dressed like this?"

"It's okay, Myrtle, we'll figure something out; more importantly, how do you feel?"

Myrtle appeared to give herself the once-over and then replied, "I feel okay . . . good actually, which is kinda strange considering I'm dead. I . . . I think you unintentionally put a little bit of yourself—beyond the ears and tail—into me and my new home. I can sort of feel you and your thoughts: it's rather hard to explain and feels weird, connected might be the best way to put it . . . you have been busy this summer, haven't you kitty? I can't wait to see Bellatrix and Narcissa again, is that who you were talking—thinking—to earlier, Narcissa?"

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Now that's a story I'm going to have to hear from the very beginning and being naked in front of old friends, who obviously prefer nudity anyways, should be pretty easy to get used to. It took me a moment to recognize them too; they both look about twenty-five and a lot happier too. They look good in their ears and tails too. I . . . um . . . got glimpses of your plans and memories too; you've become very vindictive, Hermione, but it couldn't happen to a 'nicer' quartet. The Lestrange brothers, Dolohov or Umbridge would never be found on the top of anyone's favorite people list. I think Tom Riddle is scared of you too; I don't think I ever thought I'd see him look like that, he was always so cold and calculating. I'm glad he's had a bit of a comeuppance, he's needed it but I presume it won't stop his ambitions. We might want to figure out a way to remove a few more of his pawns, surreptitiously of course; none of them were ever nice and they always thought they were better than everyone else was. No great lose to the Wizarding Society, either, if you ask me. Wow, am I ever rambling; let's head to the Weasleys, I really want to discovery if I can really leave Hogwarts now."

Myrtle's enthusiasm was contagious and Hermione was curious too; she said, "Okay, ready?"

The ghost nodded.

"I think you might want to go inside while we travel, I'm not sure how Fading will affect you if you're hovering about."

"Okay Hermione," the spirit said. Myrtle turned back into mist and flowed into her new 'cat-pendant' home. The brown-furred bakeneko hung the amulet and chain around her neck and focused on the Playground; without anyone being the wiser, Hermione Faded from Hogwarts, taking one of its resident ghosts with her. She reappeared, beside the hot-spring jungle pond, in their hideout just off Knockturn Alley.

Myrtle emerged, faster this time, and looked around; she exclaimed, "This is great! Where are we? I wouldn't think you could travel as far as someplace tropical but . . . but wow!"

"Actually, Myrtle," Hermione said, "This was a former Death Eater recruitment and training hall; Bella and I re-purposed it and cast the Fidelius Charm on, shortly after we became bakenekos. Only Bella, Cissy and I are able to come here, everyone else we would have to Escort-Faded in; unless we gave them the secret. I'm not sure if you'll be able to freely come and go, Myrtle; we'll have to check another time. I really need to get moving, I'm running late now and Molly Weasley really knows how to lay out a feast. Back inside with you, please."

Before the ghost returned to her anchor, she watched Hermione transform into her 'human' body and glamored her eyes; they looked like her old hazel ones again. Myrtle said, "Smaller bust size aside, Hermione, but I think you look better as a cat-girl; I hope you'll discover a way for us to 'play' together.

"Are you hitting on me?" the bakeneko teased, Myrtle didn't reply she just misted back to her new home.

Satisfied that she looked as human as she could muster, Hermione exited the Playground and into the non-hustle and bustle of late afternoon or early evening Knockturn Alley. Ignored, as was usual by the denizens populating the alley, she strolled leisurely towards the Leaky Cauldron and thought about what she was going to tell Harry.

Hermione? The cat-girl heard in her mind; she replied, Myrtle? Yeah? The ghost thought, this is neat, we can talk without being overheard. Bella and Cissy might overhear us, Hermione replied. Maybe, but it's still neat all the same; besides, I've noticed something as we've been walking. Myrtle said; Hermione queried what? I've got awareness beyond the receptacle: I know the sun hasn't set yet and the air is still warm—a little stuffy still, too—and I seem to be seeing though your eyes and hearing with your ears. This might be because I'm around your neck though. The bakeneko thought in reply, another thing for us to investigate, I suppose; any other observations? I think I'm feeling echoes of what you're feeling, Hermione, but I'm not entirely sure; they may really be mine but my altered existence may still be sorting my feelings and perception out. Still, I know we're almost at the Leaky Cauldron, I can see it. Do you mind that I'm borrowing your senses? The cat-girl thought back, I'll have to get used to it I guess and it doesn't really bother me at the moment. Like you said earlier, it may because you are around my neck and living in my cleavage. Hermione! Myrtle moaned.

Their entry into the Leaky Cauldron was greeted by the succinct nod of Tom the Barkeep's head and his usual smile. He asked, "Can I get you anything Miss. Granger?"

"May I use your Floo?" Hermione asked.

"Sure, just leave your sickle on the mantel like usual," he replied.

Hermione took a silver coin from her bag, placed it in the jar by the hearth and took a handful of Floo powder. Tossing it onto the grate, Hermione intoned clearly, "The Burrow."

Whisked into the fireplace and through the Floo Network, she soon found herself stepping from the Weasley's fireplace. As soon as she emerged, she saw Harry and Ron playing chess and off to the side, Ginny was reading. They all looked up at the same time.

"Hi Harry, Ron; Ginny," she said as she dusted soot from her clothes.

"Hi Hermione," Harry was the first to reply; he rapidly stood and went to his best friend. They hugged and Hermione found herself stifling a rather loud purr. Harry heard it and commented, "Wow, you must be really hungry, your stomach is rumbling."

The bushy-haired witch smiled in embarrassment as they broke their embrace; she turned to Ron and hugged him as well. Their embrace was different, or at least her feelings were, and she was relieved when Ron released her. This sensation gave her pause for thought and Hermione felt fairly certain that, had she had her 'cat' on, her tail would be puffed and her fur would be bristling. The camouflaged cat-girl was further gratified that her 'Bakeneko Glamour' barely seeped from her in human form; things would've become exceptionally awkward otherwise: Hermione remembered how much self-control—or lack thereof—Ron had had around Fleur and Fleur was only a quarter-veela.

"Hi Hermi," Ron said, using that annoying nickname he had for her, "How's your summer been; you must be glad to get away from those muggles for a while. It must be boring when there's no magic around. What happened to your eyes, they look . . . cat-like."

Hermione scowled, nearly growled and said rather bitterly, "'Those muggles' are my parents, Ron, why would I be glad to be away from them; I barely see them as it is. I like spending time with my mum and dad, even if they are 'just muggles'. And, for your information, I've had plenty to keep me occupied this summer; I've been anything but bored. And the eyes? The eyes come from an unintentional bit of magic I was exposed to earlier this summer, I've yet to figure out how alter them."

"Whatever, I suppose they look okay," Ron Weasley said dismissively, "I guess a bookworm can always find something to read to keep her entertained."

"Ron!" Ginny Weasley exclaimed and stared daggers at her brother, "You're being a prat; just because you don't like or are just too lazy to read doesn't mean others are like that. Apologize . . . hi Hermione," she added as an afterthought. "The eyes do look kinda cool, by the way.

He was saved from apologizing when Molly Weasley's loud voice preceded her entry into the room, "Ron, Harry; Ginny . . . oh, hello Hermione did you just get here?"

"Yes Mrs. Weasley," the bushy-haired witch replied.

"Good, just in time too," said the statuesque matron of the red-headed clan, "I just finished cooking; we're eating outside tonight because there are so many of us. Even Bill and Fleur are here tonight. I'm glad it's a beautiful evening, rain would've seen us nearly sitting in each other's laps if we had to eat inside."

"Hi Ginny," Hermione was finally able to properly greet the youngest Weasley as Mrs. Weasley headed back to her kitchen, "Have you had a good summer so far?"

"It's been okay, but kinda a scary since You-Know-Who is out in the open now; I've overheard a few smidgeons here and there from my dad when I walked into the room—without him noticing—and he was using the Floo. Only the very worst is being reported in the Prophet right now but I know the Ministry is keeping a tight lid on many smaller yet still horrific incidents. I'm wondering how many of my friends will be returning to Hogwarts next term; I'd be pretty tempted to bail if that was an option. There's been a lot controversy over what happened to Umbridge and the Lestrange brothers, too, and no one seems to have seen Bellatrix Lestrange around lately. There are rumors she might be dead too but no one knows for sure. Her fate has been hotly debated by the two main factions that have sprouted up since 'the Ministry Affair'."

"What factions," Hermione asked. She didn't have Ginny's insider scoop, thanks to having a father and brother who worked at the Ministry.

"One side is calling the person or persons who killed the Lestranges and Umbridge heroes; they're mostly half-bloods, muggle-borne and a few half-breeds," Ginny replied. "The other side is mostly pure-bloods fanatics, they're denouncing the murders as an attempt to undermine the natural order of things by revolutionary factions; a few have even gone as far as to suggest a muggle-borne registration act. The arguments have become quite heated I'm told. I'd rather not talk about this right now, though, it's all quite indigestion inducing; I want to enjoy my dinner, thank you very much."

With that, Ginny marked her place in the book she had been reading and sat it on a side-table. She rose—rather lithely Hermione observed—and walked from the room. Hermione, Harry and Ron followed and when they stepped from the room, their noses were accosted by the mouthwatering scents of Molly Weasley's cooking. Exiting the burrow, they made their way to the tables outside and took seats close to each other. Hermione nodded to Fleur Delacour—who suddenly looked at her very intensely—and Bill Weasley and then said her hellos to the twins. Percy Weasley, who was surprisingly present, seemed intent on ignoring her; the only Weasley missing was Charley. Luna was there as well and she was looking at Hermione in much the same way as Fleur was.

Dinner, as per usual, consisted of a lot of great food and boisterous conduct—especially by the twins—that was always enjoyable. When at last, ever one was stuffed—even Ron—Mrs. Weasley cleared the table with a wave of her wand. Hermione, offered to help with the cleanup but Molly would not hear of it—she was a guest after all—and dismissed her. Ron asked Harry to play another game of chess and when Hermione told him she wasn't interested in watching Harry lose, the two young wizards rose from the table and headed into the Burrow without her.

"What are you going to do, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"I've been in the city all summer, I think I'll take a little walk out here and get some fresh air," she replied.

"Please stay on this side of the ward-lines, Hermione," Mr. Weasley stated more than asked, "Dumbledore and Bill strengthened them for us but they won't do any good if you're outside of them. I doubt we have Death Eaters lurking just beyond the wards, hiding in the meadows, but better safe than sorry; as I always say."

"I'll not stray beyond, Mr. Weasley," Hermione replied, pushed herself from the table and rose too. Turning her back on the Burrow, the hazel-eyed witch (having reglamored her eyes prior to dinner) began a slow stroll into the rapidly advancing night. Stars were rising on the Eastern horizon and the air was fresh and fragrant. Thoroughly enjoying the rural environment, she didn't realize she had been followed until Myrtle silently whispered in the young witch's mind.

Hermione whirled and called, "Who's there?"

Gracefully, Fleur Delacour stepped from the shadows and said, "Eet is only me, 'Ermione; je était concerné when 'ou left la table par toi-même . . . pardon moi for my Eenglish, by yourself."

"You don't need to apologize Fleur, I understand how hard it is to speak another language since I speak a little French," Hermione said, "thank you for being concerned and following me but I'll be fine; so, what's really on your mind Mademoiselle Delacour? You were surprised when you first saw me."

"Oui, 'Ermione, J'ai été surpris; je ne savais pas tu es creature, non?"

"Sorry?" Hermione said.

"Pardon moi, I did not know that 'ou were more than a sorcière, 'Ermione," the veela said, "I did not notice quand j'étais à Hogwarts but 'ou and moi hardly spent any time ensemble. Qu'es-tu? Moi veela does not reconnaître ton odeur but you make mon veela nervous, like being near a chat . . . pardon moi, a cat."

Busted! Hermione heard Myrtle snicker in her head; the hazel-eyed witch thought in reply, no kidding, I might as well show her. Are you going to come to play too, Myrtle? Hopefully she'll keep our secrets. I'll go first. Hermione glanced around to ensure that no one else was watching and then shifted, Fleur looked very surprised when Hermione changed and the French veela suddenly seemed very nervous: after all, Fleur was a bird and Hermione was a cat; instinct sometimes overrules reason.

"Qu'es-tu? What are 'ou, 'Ermione?" She asked; it looked like she had sprouted a few feathers too.

"I'm a bakeneko and the reason you didn't notice when you were at Hogwarts was I only became a cat-girl earlier this summer," Hermione said with a fang revealing smile, as her ears twitched to the sounds of nature and her tail slowly wagged back and forth. She added, "It's okay Fleur, I won't eat you . . ."

". . . unless you want her to, of course," Myrtle concluded for the bakeneko as she faded into view.

"Mon Duis!" Fleur exclaimed as she clutched her heart before saying, "Vous étiez le fantôme, in that washroom I used to escape some ennuyeux boys that time! Comment pouvez-vous être ici? Pourquoi êtes-vous nu? Pourquoi vous aussi ressembler à une fille-chat, comme Hermione?"

"Hermione est un magicien supreme; règles normales ne sont pas applicables aussi longtemps qu'elle a assez intention," Myrtle replied before trying to explain, "Je ne sais pas pourquoi je suis un fantôme de chat-fille, maintenant; J'ai re-matérialisée comme ça après que Hermione ancré mon esprit à un nouveau navire. Je pense qu'elle a mis un peu de son propre esprit dans le conteneur sans le vouloir."

"You speak French?" Hermione commented.

"Sure, it's not like I didn't have time to learn; my accent must be horrific though," the ghost replied.

"Oui, it is," Fleur said with a smile.

"One sec," Myrtle said and then fluttered to Fleur, she stepped into the French veela and then vanished; Fleur shivered until the ghost reappeared seconds later beside her. The spirit said, "there, that should make things easier for you—us too for that matter—Fleur."

"What did you do?" Fleur asked; her English only slightly accented.

"Um . . . I sort of installed a switch between the French and English sides of your mind," Myrtle said hesitantly, "You should be able to switch between languages on the fly now and not speak in that half and half style; the lack of coherence was making me dizzy as you switched back and forth."

"I didn't know you could do that," Hermione said with surprise.

"Hee . . . neither did I," the ghost said.

Fleur's beautiful face turned slightly avian and she sprouted a few more feathers before nearly screeching, "I'd rather you not mess with my mind if you don't know what you're doing. You shouldn't have even been able to get past my veela; like most so-called 'magical creatures', our minds are usually intransigent to external influence: potions, charms and such. How did you manage what nearly no living soul can do?"

"See through, see?" Myrtle said with a snicker and a floating pirouette, "I'm not what you might call alive; I'm likely able to do all kinds of things that the living find impossible. Me and kitty are gonna hafta experiment but I think Hermione unintentionally did more than re-anchor me to my new vessel; we'll just have to wait and see. I intend to enjoy finding out; goodbye Moaning Myrtle, hello Mischievous Myrtle."

"Pourquoi êtes-vous nu, Myrtle?" Fleur asked again as she studied the undressed spirit with her veela eyes.

"I'm not really sure, ma jolie colombe; faire j'ai pas l'air bien nue?" the ghost replied salaciously and successfully made a veela blush.

"Oui, Myrtle, you do look good," the French witch replied breathily, "your school uniform was very unflattering. The Hogwarts' uniform does not not compliment the body beneath it. It wasn't until the Yule Ball, the other year, that my friends and I really noticed how many attractive witches and wizards went to Hogwarts. I, like my Beauxbatons classmates, would've never thought a ghost could be so 'très érotique'; looking at Hermione—who was 'très séduisant' at the Yule ball—I learned better. I see that her cat ears and tail have only enhanced what she had before, just like you, Myrtle, it's sad that it was hidden before."

Myrtle suddenly grew dim, misty and her form lost cohesion; she then converted into a stream of vapor, which rapidly flowed into Hermione's cleavage.

"Ce qui s'est passé, Hermione?" Fleur asked.

"I think you embarrassed her with your complements," the brown-furred bakeneko replied with a smirk, "It's not every day that a girl gets called 'très érotique' by a veela, who then alludes that you are also 'très séduisant'. Let's be honest, if a sexy bird—no derision intended, you are 'un magnifique oiseau', which my inner-cat wants to eat up—like you called me 'very erotic' or hinted that I was 'very seductive' earlier this year; I would've run away in bashful self-denial too. Myrtle has only just escaped Hogwarts after being trapped for decades and before she died, she was friendless, teased and persecuted mercilessly; I can really empathize with her: I was friendless, teased and persecuted mercilessly too when I first arrived at Hogwarts. If it hadn't been for Harry and a troll that tried to kill me before the end of my first term. You'd have come to know me as 'Howling Hermione' or 'Groaning Granger'; a charter member of Myrtle's 'Haunt a Loo' club. It's not just being muggle-born that makes us similar either; Myrtle was sorted into Ravenclaw and I've been called 'the brightest witch of her generation', we share a love of learning and literature. She is one of my closest friends; I intend to make her life . . . well . . . after-life enjoyable and fulfilling to the best of my ability."

Thank you Hermione, the cat-girl heard a quiet voice in her mind; that was the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me, it makes me feel like I'm special. You are special, Myrtle, Hermione replied, and I meant everything I said. Can you say sorry for me? The ghost asked, I was very rude to Fleur and she was just being nice to me; I don't really feel like coming out right now. Okay, I tell her, Myrtle.

"Fleur, Myrtle asked me to tell you she's sorry for being rude," Hermione relayed.

"I am not offended, growing up as a veela I can understand her too," Fleur said, "a lot of witches and wizards never look beyond my creature blood and have been quite insulting to me; like many of those Slytherins of yours. I am an intelligent and talented witch in my own right; I'm not just some fantasy sex-toy whose sole purpose in life is serving pleasure."

Hermione nodded in understanding then cynically said, "I was just a mudblood and now I'm just a filthy half-bred cat-thing now; at least you're only part creature, unlike me now . . ."

". . . no, you are wrong, Hermione," Fleur interrupted. "A veela is a veela is a veela. You either are or you're not, there are no part veela; just like there are no 'part' magical-creatures but for werewolves and their not really creatures at all, just diseased. All sentient female magical-creatures breed true to their species, regardless of whom or what they mate with as long as it can impregnate them. Magical-creatures like the veela, the bakeneko—unless I'm mistaken—or any humanoid magical-creature for that matter that move freely amongst wizards, are all pure. The use of titles such as 'half this' or 'quarter that' were invented by the creatures, ourselves; those titles help us integrate with mainstream magical society easier. Being so-called part 'beasts' makes us less intimidating to 'non-creatures' and provides an element of protection; especially if we find ourselves in romantic relationships."

"I . . . I didn't know that," Hermione said in surprise; she then asked, "Um . . . what about sentient male magical-creatures, do they breed true?"

"They breed to their mate's heritage," replied the French veela before adding in addendum, "Only the Fae were rumored to know how to breed halves but the Eldar have not been seen for centuries, maybe longer."

"Fleur?"

"Oui, Hermione?"

"Where did you get your information?"

"Witches and wizards are not the only people with libraries," the blonde-haired witch countered, "There is a lot of lore to be had in magical-creature enclaves around the globe, very little of it will ever be seen by human eyes. I would have never told you any of this, Hermione, if you had not been bakeneko. As one magical-creature to another in solidarity, I want you to know there are others who will be your allies. I had never heard of a Bakeneko Nation—a 'Nation' is what we call each race—before this evening but if you're the last; I want you to know you will never be wholly alone."

"Thank you Fleur that means a lot to me," Hermione said softly, "Another thing, I'm not the last of my kind but the first for generations. My new bakeneko instincts are compelling me to rebuild my Nation; I've made two, I've one pledged and I may have two others soon, depending on what happens in the next few days. I'm sure you understand why I don't want this to become public; I hope I can trust you not to tell anyone, Fleur."

"I understand but I would like to tell my ma'ma, Hermione," The veela asked, "She is part of the Veela High-Council and for all that birds and cats don't always get along; I'm sure the Veela Nation will become your ally. I am looking forward to our future relations."

The manner in which Fleur had said 'relations' sent excited shivers up and down Hermione's spine. For a moment, she seriously hoped her bakeneko and the veela might get together and get a start on those future relations; Hermione then remembered Bill Weasley and realized she was contemplating poaching his fiancé: he'd likely not appreciate that, she told herself then, maybe if we're all together, slipped into her mind. Myrtle's mental titter—she knew what Hermione had been thinking—was quite loud; it forced the cat-girl to reign in her errant thoughts and compose herself.

My empress, we have a situation, Bella's thoughts somberly intruded into Hermione's mind. Can I Fade through, it's very important; if it's not safe for me to appear, can you find somewhere it is safe, without raising suspicions? Hold on Bella, I'll let you know in a moment.

Hermione's face became a mask of seriousness and she studied Fleur; she even opened her Bakeneko empathy to get a better feel for the French veela.

"Hermione?" Fleur said, she notice and felt how the bakeneko was looking at her. The veela knew something serious must've just entered Hermione's mind and the cat-girl appeared to be mulling it over.

"Fleur, if I asked you not to tell anyone about what or who you are about to see; would you keep it secret? I feel I can trust you, my inner-cat is pretty good at judging things like that, but your own words would reassure to me."

"I will not speak of anything unless my silence would put my friends, family or Veela Nation at risk, I can promise that," Fleur replied.

Hermione's sapphire blue cat's-eyes seem to peer into the blonde-haired witch's very soul before she said, "I promise you'll be safe but I'm certain it will frighten you. Please control yourself and don't make me stun you; Myrtle told you what I am, beyond being a bakeneko that is, please keep that in mind. You're about to find out how my summer has been and what I've been up to."

Fleur nodded her agreement, she was curious and definitely more than a little bit nervous; she was sprouting feathers again.

You can Fade through Bella but—just so you know—I'm not alone; it's okay, I trust her. Hermione thought then enjoined firmly. Another thing, Bella, Please control your . . . um . . . more lascivious nature, please. Oh pooh! Bella retorted. Have you found yourself an amatory new paramour; one you don't want to share? Hermione blushed and glanced at veela, she thought back. Just come through already; you said 'we have situation' let's just deal with it. Fine, fine, thought the sable-furred bakeneko.

To Fleur, it felt as if the air was suddenly charged—like before a powerful storm—and, had it not been for a crickets' midsummer symphony, she would have heard a faint crackle. She felt a 'presence' nearby, sought for its source; she saw two blue cat-like eyes appear. The eyes, hovering at about the same level as Hermione's, hung beside the cat-girl and blinked a few of times as the figure of a woman formed around them.

Recognizing the witch by Hermione's side, Fleur drew her wand and exclaimed, "Sacredieu! C'est la magicienne sombre Bellatrix Lestrange! Hermione, sortir d'ici; aller chercher l'aide!"

Hermione could only smirk; Bellatrix Lestrange's first words were not what the veela had expected.

"Oh goody, we've got our 'cat' on," the usually terror-inducing witch squealed happily, shifted to her bakeneko and recognized Fleur, "Ooh, you've been holding out on us, my Empress; you've got a hot French bird all to yourself. I always wondered what veela tastes like; can I have a nibble?"

"Bella!" Hermione scolded; she wasn't heard: Myrtle had reappeared, exclaiming with elation, and louder too, "Bellatrix!"

"Myrtle?" the sable-furred cat-girl said in surprise, "why are you here? You're a feline-female phantom too! You've been busy, Hermione, and you've only been gone for a little while."

The brown-furred bakeneko, used to her first's—at times—eccentric behavior, put her hands on hips and asked, "What is so important that you'd risk being seen by others, Bella?"

"We were watching some crazy movie about King Arthur when Cissy's ears began twitching and turning towards the corner," Bella replied. "Cissy pounced from the sofa and shifted to her cat form mid-air. When she landed by the corner, she thrust her head forward and it looked like she grabbed something with her mouth. Still in her cat form, she turned towards your parents and me; low and behold, she had a familiar rat dangling from her teeth by the scruff of its neck."

"Pettigrew!" Hermione hissed; Bella growled in unanimity, "What was he doing at my house? What happened then?"

"Hoping to escape, he dropped his animagus; it didn't work, Cissy kept a solid grip on his robe's collar: it might've been funny if it wasn't so serious," reported the black-furred cat-girl, she then spat out. "The coward then tried to barter for his release and told us that Tom had sent the Carrow Twins to eliminate Amelie Bones; we thought you'd want to know."

"Of course I do," Hermione agreed, "where's Pettigrew now?"

"Me'n'Cissy forced him back into his animagus form and put him in a magic cancelling cage I conjured," Bella replied, "When I Faded to you, your mum and dad were showing him their collections of obsolete dental tools and explaining what each could do; I've never seen a rat go pale before. Anyways, what do you want us to do about Madame Bones, your majesty?"

The way Bella had addressed Hermione rose the veela and the ghost's eyebrows but they noticed that the brown-furred cat-girl had adopted a very regal mien.

Cissy, Hermione thought; Narcissa replied. Yes, my empress?

The brown-furred bakeneko thought to the former Lady Malfoy as she said aloud, "Do you and Bella know where Madame Bones is?"

In Bones Manor, I've been there before, Cissy thought as Bella said, "Bones' Manor, Cissy has been there, I can take the image from her mind."

"Do you think you can safely get in and out with Madame Bones? Her niece Susan will likely be there too," Hermione commented.

"I think so," Bella replied, "We know anti-apparition wards don't stop Fading, we have them surrounding the Playground and they don't stop us; so we should be able to get in and out without being detected or seen."

"Good, here is what I want you two to do," Hermione began, "Fade to Bones Manor and keep watch; once the Carrows arrive and once their assault is well underway, I want you to rescue Madame Bones and Susan; take them to the Playground. I know they will not like it but I want you to keep them in-communique until I can speak with them the day after tomorrow. Make it appear as if they've been killed, too; perhaps a couple of simulacrums left behind will do the trick."

And the rat? Cissy asked; Hermione replied, bring him here after you explain things to my parents; I will deal with Pettigrew.

"What are you going to do with Pettigrew?" asked Bella, "The rat's fate belongs to Harry, not me; I'm going to give it to him for his birthday. I doubt Harry will be so lenient this time around."

"Actually, my Empress," the sable-furred cat-girl began formally, "May the rat be a gift from Cissy and me?"

"I suppose, what have you got in mind?" she replied, Fleur and Myrtle watched silently from the sidelines as another pair of cat's eyes appeared near Hermione and the Lestrange cat-witch. This bakeneko, once she fully appeared, was blonde-furred and Myrtle recognized her immediate.

"Narcissa Black?" Myrtle said in wonder; Fleur also recognized the cat-girl but she had not met her before, she had read about her in the society pages though.

Cissy looked at the ghost with surprise and began, "Myrtle, how . . ."

Hermione interrupted, ". . . Not now, we'll have time once everything is done to talk about how we all came to be here this evening; please hand me Pettigrew and get ready to leave. Whatever you want to do, Bella, make it quick."

The blonde-furred bakeneko handed Hermione the rat and its cage; their empress looked like she was touching something dirty. Bellakits waved her hand and the cage became an ornate rosewood box with barely enough holes to keep Pettigrew alive; it would be an uncomfortable prison for the animugus. The sable-furred kitty-witch then conjured a piece of parchment and wrote on it.

"Bella, may I read that before I give the rat to Harry?"

Bellakits handed her empress the letter and Hermione read the unexpectedly elegant handwriting: Our Honorable Lord Black. We wish to congratulate you on your recent ascension and wish to honor this occasion with a small token. Please accept our humble gift, do with it what you will; we suggest feeding it to your beautiful owl Hedwig but it's yours to do with as you wish. This gift is also an offering of sorts, poor restitution for our former actions towards you we know; we hope that it might incline you to meet with, in the near future. We would like to discuss some serious Black Family matters with you, Our Lord, but we would understand if you are not conducive to the request. Lord Black, we implore you to grant us this hearing and we will submit ourselves to Familial Justice. We look forward to your positive and honorable response: Cissy and Bella B.

"Well, I see what you are hoping to accomplish, I don't know if it will help though; Harry's become a lot harder after what happened earlier this year. He's hiding it but I can tell he's fed up. I know he is close to shaking the dust from his sandals and leaving everyone and everything behind; it's what we've been preparing for this summer," Hermione said as she handed the parchment back to Bellakits; who put it in an envelope with 'The Lord-Presumptuous Black; Lord-Presumptuous Potter' written on its front. The brown-furred bakeneko then said, "Head out now and be careful; if the risk is too high for some reason, I want you to return immediately, we'll figure out what to do if that's the case."

"Yes Our Empress," Cissy and Bellakits both said and then bowed. Bella added when the lifted their heads, "What of the Carrow Twins?"

"I don't care; all I want is for everyone to think Amelia Bones is dead. Things will be better for us if we get Susan included in that assumption. Don't risk exposing us!" Hermione said; Bella and Cissy nodded and faded away.

"You've had a very busy and strange summer so far, Hermione," Fleur somehow managed to deadpan after all she had seen and heard; Myrtle hovered silently and nodded in agreement. The veela added, "I think we should get back to the Burrow before someone starts looking for us."

After an eventful first evening, the remainder of Hermione's stay at the Weasleys remained relatively subdued; the reports of Amelia and Susan Bones' death made Harry's birthday a very subdued affair. The only time the birthday boy smiled was when he was asked what he intended to do with/to Peter Pettigrew; it was not one of Harry's happy-go-lucky smiles and the Weasley Patron and Matron found themselves urging that the green-eyed wizard to not 'do anything he might regret later'. Their concern fell on polite but deaf ears. In the end, Hermione was quite glad when she left; the environment at the Burrow had become heavy and tense. Thankfully, no one notice that Hermione and Fleur were less melancholy than everyone else but the bakeneko and the Veela never had another opportunity to speak in private; they only managed to absent themselves, for a little while, when Dumbledore visited on Harry's birthday.

The atmosphere was the same—heavy and tense—when Hermione arrived at home but for different reasons. After what had happened on the first night she was visiting the Weasleys, she had been left with the less than comfortable decision to leave Bella—whom of course behaved, as was her wont these days—alone with her parents while Cissy played jailer and bodyguard to Amelia and Susan Bones. Bella, obviously considering who she was, hadn't been a very good candidate for either position; even though she and Cissy had rescued the Bones from their likely demise. Even with that, there was a lot of animosity between the former Black sisters and the Bones' family; the restrictions, which Hermione had ordered, hadn't been well received either.

Once Bella had left the Grangers' house, Hermione's mum regaled her daughter with a series of anecdotal stories that were—to say the least—salacious in nature. Thankfully, Dan and Emma had taken it all in stride and even found Bella's lascivious antics amusing. Emma additionally confided that when she found Bella casually padding from the washroom wearing only a towel wrapping her hair, it had been very difficult to control herself. She awkwardly admitted that the sight of the naked nubile bakeneko made her want to pounce on the cat-girl and push her back into the washroom. She also wanted to know if Bella's exceptionally large unhooded clitoris performed in the capacity it appeared it might. That had Hermione blushing; she grew even redder when her mother asked if she was similarly equipped and if it did work the way she thought.

On a more personal note—not that Hermione's anatomy wasn't personal—Emma giggled and mentioned she was feeling quite satisfied but comfortably achy; it had something to do with Dan's stamina, which had been higher than usual and her mum thought it worthy of mention: Hermione hadn't needed to hear that and said nothing. Meanwhile, Daniel Granger—for the most part—was sporting a silly grin and not really talkative when his daughter returned home. Glad, Hermione chalked up the time that her parents and the sisters spent together as one for the win column; it appeared likely, once their muggle-affairs were in order, they would enthusiastically join their daughter and her playmates.

Emma and Dan were also fascinated by Myrtle—naked cat-girl ghost notwithstanding—and the spirit happily spent a few days around Emma's neck, as Hermione's mum went about the daily business of their dental practice and other things. The Grangers also researched Myrtle's family but it had been a rather somber discovery; Myrtle's family were amongst the last victims of Nazi bombings raids during the Battle of Britain. On a more possitive note, the Grangers discovered that Myrtle was likely Emma's great aunt once removed, or something like that. They also discovered that Myrtle could mentally link with whoever was wearing her pendant and experience things through her host's senses.

Things had not been nearly as calm at the Playground. When Amelia later discovered that Susan's classmate had ordered their incarceration, she was upset and very surprised. That the two infamous and notorious Black sisters would obey a witch—cat-witch that is—who was only sixteen was a near earth-shattering surprise for the former no-nonsense head of the DMLE. Those shocks aside, Amelia also discovered she was unable to intimidate Hermione with her patented scowl, which was nearly as impressive as Professor McGonagall's was when the professor was upset. When Madame Bones tried, once, the bakeneko fired back a glare that almost saw the former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wilt, roll on her back and raise her paws in feline submission.

Things were very tense over the course of the three days, which followed Hermione's official introduction to Amelia and the subsequent invitation to the former—now officially deceased—bureaucrat and her niece to join the burgeoning clan of bakenekos. Regardless of how it began, it didn't take long for Amelia to develop a very positive opinion of Hermione and what the empress of the bakenekos was striving towards; her opinions also softened towards Bella and Cissy and she was beginning to enjoy the time she spent with the cat-girls just gabbing and debating matters. The one thing that had really impressed Madame Bones was that Hermione had included the former chief auror in her planning sessions, which had to be at least confidential, and the cat-girl was willing to listen and/or implement useful opinions and knowledge that Amelia had brought to the table. Overall, Amelia Bones found herself in an enviable position: she felt respected for her abilities and becoming more than the politician, her work at the Ministry had forced her to become. The only thing she found regularly uncomfortable were the frequent loud couplings between the three cat-girls and the way they'd sometimes just fall asleep—mid-discussion—for a few minutes at a time. Amelia was also worried about how being surrounded by this much regular debauchery might affect her barely sixteen-year-old niece.

While her aunt had had some earlier issues adapting to life at the Playground, Susan Bones had not; sure, she chaffed a bit at the restrictions Hermione had placed upon them but she understood why the older Gryffindor was acting that way. When the idea of becoming bakenekos, like Hermione and the Black sisters, was floated the first time, Susan wanted to make the leap immediately. She had always found the bushy-haired witch attractive and getting to know her—and Harry Potter for that matter—during the DA meetings, had left Susan with a few graphic dreams and fantasies that she'd never tell her aunt about; or even Hannah for that matter. Hermione the Bakeneko though, that was on an entirely different order of magnitude for the usually shy Hufflepuff; from the moment she saw Hermione with her ears and tail proudly unfurled, she had really wanted to get to know the older witch better, much better. Seeing her undeclared paramour and her cat-girl companions running, climbing and swinging through the jungle-like canopy had filled Susan with a deep seated longing; it really didn't help that the three bakenekos were naked as often as they were—at best—scantily attired. Other than the few words between them, Susan found it hard to talk to Hermione and she almost ran when Hermione once arrived to soak in the jungle hot spring while she was there bathing too.

All the sexual tension at the Playground came to a head and was resolved, mostly, on the morning following the fourth day of their meeting with Hermione; the sixth since Susan and Amelia's protective custody had begun. The change had come after Bella invited Amelia to sit share a few drinks one evening. The sable-furred bakeneko—more often than not naked—and Amelia knew that they had to limit the tension between them if their plans were to succeed. Bella summoned a couple bottles of well-aged and quality firewhiskey and a couple of tumblers after dinner that evening. Amelia and Bella got down to the serious business of drinking and soon reached a state of uninhibited inebriation. Somehow, amongst the slurred and mostly incoherent ramblings—to those not drinking—they reached an accord. Susan and Cissy left the two to their business and retired to their sleeping areas, which were merely round and comfortably padded platforms scattered at some distance from each other, amongst the fake trees of the conjured jungle. The next morning Susan had to hunt for her aunt, she hadn't slept in her usual spot; she found Amelia shockingly naked and sleeping with Bella but what was very surprising was how they were found: Bella and Amelia were sleeping on their sides, facing each other while using the inside of the other's thighs as a pillow.

That afternoon, Amelia approached Hermione, requesting to join the Bakeneko Nation officially and willing accept all that that entailed; including Susan and her being bound to their empresses will. Without seeking privacy, Hermione embraced Amelia and began making love to the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Agog, Susan had front row seats to her aunt's ravishment and diddled herself to semi-fruition a couple of times before Amelia climaxed. When Amelia finally orgasmed, Hermione fangs bit deeply into to her lover's shoulder. The wail of ecstasy uttered by her aunt left Susan dripping wet, horribly frustrated and kneeling on the carpet of soft faux grass as her aunt fell into a deep sleep. The sixteen-year-old Hufflepuff, watched over her aunt's recovery while a naked Hermione, a naked—as was usual—Bellakits and a marginally garbed Cissy decided they needed something to eat. Susan declined; instead, she sat beside her recovering aunt, mesmerized as Amelie Bones slowly transformed into a red-furred bakeneko who looked about twenty-five.

"Oh wow," Amelia had said when she woke up; feeling years younger and far less weary.

"How are you feeling, Aunty?" Susan asked.

"Good, strong, horny; I can't believe I just said that to my niece who's been like a daughter to me," Madame Bones replied; then her cat took over and asked, "How do I look?"

"You look . . .ah . . . good; really good, Aunty, even with the . . . um . . . smaller boobs; I think they're only . . . er . . . a 'B' but they suit your new cat body, Aunty Amy," Susan rambled.

Amelia's cat—unknowingly oozing Bakeneko Glamour—was currently in control and began purring at her niece's compliments, the new-formed cat-girl asked, "Do you want to be bakeneko too, Susan? I'm surprised I didn't notice how sexy you've become; a beautiful young witch—meow—and you're all mine for the moment: come give Aunty Amy a hug and kiss."

Amelia Bones rolled onto her back and held out her hands in invitation. Susan, her mind clouded by her own and the broadcasted feelings of her aunt, joined Amelia. They wrapped their arms around each other and entered into a searing snog. The snog was followed by roving hands and soon all that mattered was the taboo seduction and debauchery between aunt and niece. They coupled as furiously as Amelia had coupled with Hermione; the only difference, Susan's conversion did not have an audience. Reaching climax, Susan felt Amelia's fangs slash into her shoulder and her pussy gushed in unbridled release. Panting, niece and aunt collapsed to sleep in each other's arms.

When they finally woke, they felt hungry too so they sought out Hermione, Bella and Cissy; neither, for a moment, thought to put their clothes back on; besides the warm fragrant air in the Playground felt good on their skin. Before Hermione returned home that evening, she and Susan doubled-teamed Amelia—to a boneless puddle—with their special bakeneko enhancements while Cissy and Bella partook in a few games, which the sable-furred bakeneko highly craved for all its seemingly abusive brutality. It might not have been something either Amelia or Susan wanted to experience directly—at the moment—but it was hot to watch, there was no denying that; especially when being filled, front and rear, with augmented bakeneko biology and supernatural stamina.

When Hermione Faded home that evening, she was too tuckered out to do much more than eat and crawl into bed; to the amused smirks of her mum, dad and Crookshanks. When they asked her if, she had had a nice day; Hermione only smiled and silently nodded. Her response was met with giggles from her mum and snickers from her father; her parents then told her that their junior partners at the Surgery had decided to buy the practice. Hermione looked very happy when she heard that but she was too tired to celebrate the implications of the sale.

While the Grangers finalized the sale of their Surgery and organized their muggle finances and other assets, Hermione spent an increasing amount of time at the Playground. Despite how often things deteriorated into spontaneous orgies between three, four or—as commonly as not—five bakenekos, Amelia and Susan's Bakeneko training proceeded abreast with their ongoing plans. Amelia even adapted some of her Auror training and experience to take advantage of a bakeneko's unique and inherent abilities and, astonishingly, she seemed to have very few moral qualms that she and Susan had joined a clan of world-renowned assassins. Neither the Black sisters nor Hermione questioned this but they all silently concluded that Amelia must've grown very frustrated and angry during her tenure as the Director of the DMLE. They similarly noticed that she had a vindictive streak nearly as big as Hermione's, which was nearly as large as Bellakits' and just as intense: the older red-furred bakeneko—they all agreed—was not one to mess with or anger.

Amelia's attitude aside, they had worked through a few contingency plans and a few short-term options but all of them were hoping for a response from their previous surreptitious communiques with the Japanese Minister—the Shogun herself—of Japan's Diet of Magic, Sashoutsuki Yume. Otherwise, everything was ready for September the First. Their eagerly awaited response came in the form of an invitation from John Smith to share an afternoon tea at Wiccan's Wands and Rods. The arrival of the invitation had caused a little consternation amongst the bakenekos but considering John Smith's true status it wasn't all that surprising that his owl had penetrated the Playground's wards.

Dressed in their finery; (Bella and Hermione in their black leather bustiers and mini-skirts, fishnet stockings and stiletto ankle boots: Cissy was dressed the same but in ice-blue; it matched her blonde fur better) the three bakenekos Faded to Wiccan's Wands and Rods. John Smith, an Asian looking male with odd rusty colored hair with light colored points and a girl, were awaiting them. The girl, about a year younger than Hermione, would've been the epitome of Hitler's Aryan Nation Youth had it not been for the vicious scar across her right eye and the odd teardrop tattoo beneath her left. There was also something quite disturbing about her too—the brunette-furred bakeneko felt—but when Hermione tried to categorize the oddness the only word she could come up with was 'still'.

"Welcome, welcome," John Smith enthused, "I'm glad you could make it Hermione, although I'm a little disappointed that you didn't stop by for tea sooner but then you've been quite busy, after all. It's a pleasure to see you once again, Madame Lestrange . . ."

". . . It's just Bella now, Mr. Smith," the black-furred bakeneko said.

"Well, well; is it now, how interesting? I see you've become rather 'catty' since the last I saw you; you wear it well, Bella, and I'm sure looking about twenty-five is a bonus," the wandsmith and Supreme Mage said, sounding uncomfortably like Cornelius Fudge, "and Lady Malfoy too! What a surprise. Welcome, welcome, my good lady, I am John Smith."

"Just Cissy now, Mr. Smith," the blonde cat-girl advised, "Bella and I have left our former names behind us for a much better offer."

"Hmm . . . I believe you have," he said, "Allow me to introduce my companions; who I'm sure will be part of your 'much better offer'. The young woman is Zazie Rainyday (1)—she's a Supreme Magus, or witch if you prefer, like Hermione; amongst other things—and her companion is Tsukinohikari Jiuōkā; he is the Ambassador Without Portfolio for the Kitsune Nation.

The Kitsune Ambassador rose to his feet, performed a very deep bow and said, "It is my honor to meet the Empress of the Kami Tsume to Kiba no Kyoto and the reappearance of your Nation's Gate affirms your ascension. The Kitsune Nation is honored to be the first peoples of Japan to greet Granger Hime-sama and we've been honored to also speak to you on behalf of Sashoutsuki Yume-sama. As well, the reappearance of the Bakeneko Nation coincides with a request by another party who has requested resettlement in Japan. Since Granger Hime-sama's throne is once again active, it is felt that you should be part of these negotiations."

"Um . . . thank you very much Tsukinohikari Jiuōkā-sama," Hermione said as she tried sorting the diplomatic protocols that had been dropped on her; she was very thankful that she had watched some anime and that manga was a guilty pleasure of hers—along with her mother's so called 'romance' novels—when she wasn't at Hogwarts. "I am not Japanese—obviously—and while I'm flattered to be invited to these negotiations; I don't feel it's my part to sit in on important National Decisions at this time. I have my own Nation's considerations to manage; a big part of those is our relocation to Japan. From what I can infer, our return will be welcome; unless I'm mistaken."

"You are not mistaken, Granger Hime-sama, you are the Bakeneko no Ōi no Kōgō; that you were not raised Japanese is secondary to the re-establishment of your Nation. You and your people's places are assured because historically the Kami Tsume to Kiba no Kyoto were part of the Great Empire and the Great Empire welcomes the return of her lost children."

"Ahem," the girl with the scar interrupted.

"Gomen'nasai Rainyday-sama," the ambassador apologized "I'm dominating this meeting, yurushitekudasai."

The girl John Smith had introduced as Zazie Rainyday rolled her eyes in amused disdain; dismissing the ambassador wordlessly and extended her hand to Hermione. The brown-furred bakeneko accepted without hesitation; feeling a certain kinship with the girl, Hermione was a little surprised that Zazie's strong grip seemed oddly chilled. Zazie said, "It's pleasure to meet you Miss Granger; I've not seen a bakeneko in a very long time, I'm pleased to see that your race is not nearly as extinct as people have thought. I hope, between upcoming negotiators, that we have an opportunity to know each other better; you are the first Supreme Witch—of my apparent age—I have ever met: I hope that we might develop some deep bonds of friendship."

Hermione replied, "The honor is mine, Ms Rainyday . . ."

". . . please, call me Zazie; formal protocols are just too annoying for words, especially amongst peers," Zazie said, "I'd much rather develop a more . . . intense but relaxed relationship with you and your people. I'm sure my family would agree."

Blushing, Hermione thought, did she just hit on me . . . us? She's hot and about my age too. Before replying, "If that is your preference; I'd be happy if you then called me Hermione. Allow me to introduce my companions, on my right is Bella nee Lestrange and on my left, Cissy nee Malfoy."

"My pleasure, Miss Bella; Miss Cissy," Zaize said and formally curtsied. "I'd prefer if you call me Zazie too; no matter how hard I try I can't seem to break Jiuōkā of the habit of calling me Rainyday-sama, I hope we might remain casual too. I understand the importance of the honorifics but I'm far too Western to truly internalize them."

"I'm very pleased to meet you Zazie," the black-furred Bakeneko purred; she eyed the girl, who looked a little younger than Hermione, and extended her hand. There was no denying the girl's, whose last name was Rainday, interest—by scent or action—as she shook hands with the sable-furred cat-girl; silently answering Bella's unspoken offer.

Cissy's comportment was not nearly as salacious, thankfully, when she greeted and shook Zazie's hand but there was an unspoken attraction between them too; it was in their eyes and on the blonde-furred bakenekos' scent.

"Now that introductions are complete," Zazie said, "I'd like to invite you three somewhere more . . . private, so we might talk and meet the other individual who is an important part of these negotiations; are you coming Jiuōkā-san; Mr. Smith?"

"Perhaps later," John Smith replied before adding facetiously, "I have customers to attend to; can't have them arriving and finding my store closed early, they might riot."

Zazie shook her head, smiled and said, "Do you actually even sell wands? I've never once seen a customer in your shop when I've visited before; I don't see that changing now."

"I'll have you know, young lady, my sales have been phenomenal this year; I sold a wand to the young Miss Granger just a little over a month ago: I've been quite impressed with what I've seen since she bought it."

"Bah," Zazie countered, "I bet Hermione hasn't waved that wand once since she got it; stop patting yourself on the back John. Anyways, please stop in for dinner this evening, at least; I'm sure it will prove quite interesting for all in attendance."

"I suppose; I have a convenient opening in my schedule, so I'd be happy to attend; I just hope I'll not be too hungover to work tomorrow . . ."

". . . work, right!" huffed the witch with the facial scar and tattoo; it was obvious that she and John Smith had known each other for quite some time considering their casual banter. It was rather odd for Hermione and company to consider too; Zazie looked about fifteen—sixteen at the max—years-old considering her appearance. Unconcerned but knowing that the three bakenekos where silently debating her age, she said, "Come with me, please."

Zazie stepped from the table, finishing the last sip of her tea before leaving, and led Hermione, Bella and Cissy from Wiccan's Wands and Rods; Tsukinohikari Jiuōkā followed silently. The three bakenekos followed the young scarred witch to a garishly painted wagon, parked in Knockturn Alley. It made Hermione think of gypsies. Zazie ascended the two stairs, which led to a narrow landing of sorts at the carriage's rear, and opened the door. Hermione, Bella and Cissy climbed the steps and thanked Zazie for holding the door and each passed into wagon in single file. What greeted them inside was beyond their expectations and maybe even their wildest imaginations.

Wide-eyed, Bella, Cissy and Hermione stared breathlessly as they stepped into a glade of unearthly beauty, spreading impossibly broadly before them. Confused, Hermione glanced over her shoulder and noticed that the door they had passed through stood unsupported but for its jambs in a grassy clearing; through the still open portal, she looked past Zazie and into the non-hustle and bustle of a midafternoon Knockturn Alley. Tsukinohikari Jiuōkā climbed into the 'unwagon' on their heels and stepped passed Zazie; the scared teenager followed, closing the door behind her. At the sound of the door's latch clicking fast; the Japanese looking man, with the odd hair colors, shifted into a form that caused the bakeneko's hackles to rise. His introduction as an Ambassador for the Kitsune Nation should've been a clue to his identity but his title had been an academic abstract until Tsukinohikari Jiuōkā sprouted furry fox ears and a bushy tail; the three bakeneko's grew tense and guarded.

"Gomen'nasai Granger Hime-sama, Cissy-sama, Bella-sama; I had not considered your—likely—instinctually reactions to my form," the Ambassador explained, rambling a little as he did, "and while it is true our Nations have been enemies historically; we were standing as allies when the Bakeneko suddenly vanished many years ago. The disappearance of the Bakeneko Nation has been a long-standing mystery amongst the Creature-Nations of the Empire and has never been explained. There will be rejoicing when you return to your rightful home but that is a matter for another time. As you can see I am Kitsune and we are related to canines, well vulpines to be precise, just as the Bakeneko are related to felines; innate animosity between our kinds is far older than the Nations we hail from. Let us hope such feelings are rapidly left where they belong; in the past."

"Thank you for being understanding, Tsukinohikari-sama," Hermione replied, "We had not expected to meet anyone other than John Smith when we accepted his invitation; meeting you and Zazie came as a completed surprise to us. Meeting a Kitsune, for all it fascinates our curiosity, harkens to our bakeneko heritage, which is still new to us and occasionally still overwhelms. I suppose we all should be thankful that this meeting didn't occur sooner, Bella and I would've likely attacked immediately; our control over our bakenekos' tended to slip regularly back then. Please forgive us in advance, for any puffed tails or standing fur that may offend you."

Smiling, the kitsune replied, "Dōmo arigatō Granger Hime-sama."

"I'm sure your Nations will get on famously but other things must come first," Zazie said, suddenly two flying creatures, who might have been pixies, appeared before their teenaged host. She addressed one and then the other "Vam, please find Mina and tell her our 'kawaii' guests have arrived; let me know where you are. Pix, please do the same for Hunter."

"On our way, Zazie," the two replied; oddly, they both sounded much like Zazie but for the odd chime-like quality to their voices. As the two flew by, Hermione noticed that both creatures looked like miniature Zazies but for their skin tones and wings; the one called Vam looked bluish, the one called Pix a faint green.

"Familiars?" Hermione said aloud, more in observation than question.

"They aren't familiars, Hermione, they are aspects," Zazie answered the curious cat-witch; "it's complicated and relates to who and what I am."

"Okay, I'll bite," said the brown-furred bakeneko, "What are you Zazie? I find it hard to even sense your presence and—not meaning to offend—you make me feel rather squirrelly; perhaps because you're so tranquil. Something is off about you but I can't quite put my finger on it. 'Still' is the closest word I can come up with to describe you."

Zazie smiled, surprisingly warmly considering the nature of Hermione's very personal question, "I am the Un-vampire; the only known spawn of Evangeline A.K. McDowell (2), a Shinso vampire of sorts; sometimes known as the Maga Nosferatu amongst other and more often derogatory terms."

Cissy and Bella blanched when they heard that; Hermione was both surprised by their response and confused by their action, she asked, "Am I missing something?"

"What type of history are they teaching in that school of yours, Hermione?" Zazie said with a superior grin.

"Hermione," Bella began, "Evangeline McDowell is perhaps one of the most notorious and feared vampires of all time; on par with Vlad Tepeş, who's also known as Dracula. On top of being a Pure Blooded Vampire, she is also a very powerful witch; perhaps even your equal but with far more experience. She's not someone even you want to cross. She makes the Dark Lord look like a pathetic child-bully involved in a playground row with his rival, Dumbledore. She is never spoken of casually and only very-old families know anything about her. Even her description is vague beyond female, highly sensual, well-endowed and insatiable sexually; it has been said that she can exhaust a satyr, if the rumors are to be believed. Thankfully, she prefers to be left alone and chooses not to involve herself with either the Magical or Mundane Worlds or their affairs; if she did we'd be all licking her feet by now.

Hermione gawked between her comrades and Zazie; she'd never read anything like this in any of her History Books, even the ones prohibited for Hogwarts' use or allowed in her library: even in the Restricted Section.

Zazie, her decorum slipping, giggled and said, "I don't know about that satyr part but most of what you said about my other-mother is true but for her appearance. I've seen her a few times; when she is not glamored she looks like an exceptionally cute ten-year-old girl, with big blue eyes and very long—knee length or better—blonde hair. Also, all of what's been written about her is either exaggerated and/or patently false; not to mention apocryphal. She has—historically—not left a trail of drained corpses in her wake, much preferring anonymity over public recognition and all that entails for her when it happens. In addition, the satyr comment in mind, Evangeline has a very sensual nature that I've seen but not experienced. She has taken many lovers, male and female alike; some more surprising than others, in both her glamoured and true forms: depending on her mood and/or her partner's kink. She truly is more a 'lover' than a 'fighter' but you'd still not want to piss her off; there are very good reasons why people fear her: she can be petty, vindictive and very brutal when the mood strikes her. Nevertheless, I'm sure she'd really like you, Hermione; Evangeline has a penchant for cute things and intelligence, you are a very cute and very smart cat-girl, Hermione, the Dark Evangel would just eat you up."

Hermione blushed, but Zazie's little monologue lightened everyone's mood. The un-vampire added, "Anyways, I'd love to explain my Aspects and the whole 'Un-Vampire' thing but both of those tales go back to my very beginning and that is a very long tale indeed; nearly as long as my other-mother's history. If we have the time and opportunity, I'll gladly regale you with my saga; it's actually a rather interesting yarn and I'm not saying that from arrogance. Now, Vam has just gotten back to me, I know where to find the person you've been invited to meet; please follow me and try not to wander off. The Flaw may only be a couple miles in diameter, spherically, but that still a lot of area to become lost in; thankfully you'll find nothing dangerous here unless you are a danger to us."

Zazie began walking and the three bakenekos followed; the Kitsune Ambassador excused himself and headed in a different direction. Cissy, Hermione and Bella, wide eyed with wonder, stayed on their host's heels as she led them beneath the boughs of impossibly large trees with trunks so large that it would be hard to perceive a curve if you were standing beside them. Beneath their feet, soft mosses or grasses dampened their steps and allowed them to hear the wood. This forest was alive with bird-song and wonderful floral scents and besides being obviously magical, it seemed both ancient and contemporary at the same time; it was also surprisingly neat and well-ordered, conforming as if to some master plan or design and maintained by an army of groundskeepers. It reminded them of the Playground but on a much vaster scale. Awed silence surrounded the trio of bakenekos as they followed Zazie deeper into the wood and after a few minutes, they heard the sound of water gently lapping against a shore. Their host led them beyond the branches of the manicured woodland and to the shores of a crystal blue lake; she turned. They followed the shore until they reached an Asian inspired home, constructed in a manner that saw part of it hanging—unsupported—over the tranquil waters. Zazie led them to the house, opened its door and stepped in. In unspoken invitation Hermione, Bella and Cissy followed the 'un-Vampire' inside.

"Welcome, this is my house," Zazie stated, "please make yourselves comfortable but understand, I don't abide footwear beyond the entrance; please remove your boots."

Following their host's lead, they removed their ankle-boots before stepping into the house proper and padded across the beautifully finished hardwood floor; they could understand why she wanted nothing that might mar or scuff her floor treading across its surface. Marginally embarrassing to the three bakenekos was the highly polished floor, which was near mirror-like; if one glanced down, they'd notice that Bella, Cissy and Hermione were disinclined to wear panties—mostly—due to their tails. Not that it mattered, Zazie never looked down as she guided her guests across the sparse but elegantly decorated sitting and dining area and onto a balcony that jutted out over the water. Standing, with her back facing them, was a girl—no more than twelve—looking out over the lake and as naked as a newborn and as uncaring; as if it was an everyday thing for her. Sitting on her shoulder was the creature Zazie had called Vam.

"Thank you for accepting our invitation," the girl said regally without turning, "the re-appearance of the Bakeneko Nation has put a crimp in our plans; we hope we can resolve this so that we might proceed with only minimal delays. We also earnestly hope that our Nations might become friends, since we have far more in common than many might think; especially in the manner that our gifts are passed on. We look forward to many years of friendship and cooperation, with the Bakeneko Nation Empress Hermione, and hope that we too might be friends beyond our politics, ambitions or trials."

"Um . . . who are you, if I'm not being too bold to ask?" Hermione queried.

"We're sorry," the girl replied imperially and turned, unabashedly naked before the bakenekos and Zazie. "We are Wilhelmina Vlad Tepeş (3); we are the Queen of the Vampires; it is our pleasure to make you acquaintance, Empress Hermione and consorts. We had not considered that the three of you might be so attractive nor did we consider that we might be susceptible to your allures; which is equal to a veela's we might add, at least to us. Considering our feelings, which are far more mature than our body looks; we hope we can explore such matters—best left unspoken—at some future date; we are limited to non-male consorts and must be cautious in our play. Like any woman, for all we look young, we have desires and needs which help with the rigors of courtly life and tension but such matters are for another day."

Cissy and Bellakits nearly fell—gracefully of course, they were cat's after all—to their knees when Queen Wilhelmina introduced herself. Bella hissed at Hermione, insisting that she should be kneeling too, even as the Bakeneko Empress; the brown-furred bakeneko knowing that in matters of etiquette, following the lead of the Black sisters would be the wisest course. Unknown to Hermione, as she knelt, but well known—thanks to Black Family history—to the blonde and sable-furred bakenekos; this young prepubescent looking girl was likely the most politically powerful female in the entire world, mundane or magical. They would do well not to raise her ire, the Vampire Queen had uncounted resources at her command; resources that, with a mere snap of her dainty and child-like fingers, could be arrayed against nearly any rival: whether political, financial or romantic.

"Oh please," Wilhelmina Tepeş said with exasperation when she saw the kneeling bakenekos, "when we are here, regardless of why, we are just Mina; this is a vacation for us. We will not have our rest interrupted by pointless protocol and we hope to never see you on your knees again—at least for this reason—Empress Hermione. We are peers after all, regardless of the size of Nations we lead; enjoy your time away from such formal nonsense when you have the opportunity, trust us on that. You will find—as do we—that the apathy towards titles that my friends here hold, is very refreshing to us: just as it was refreshing to our mother when she first introduced herself to them many hundreds of years ago. It's only here that we are allowed to be ourselves, without our every action or word being judged and scrutinized by our Court. It is only here that we might experience the glories of a sunrise, a sunset or the simple pleasures of a blue sky; Zazie's other-mother—like Zazie herself—might not have an aversion to the Sun but it plays lethal havoc with our fair complexion," Mina added with a casual smirk. "Even after our Bund is complete and we have given this illusion of the Sun back to our people; we will still come here for rest and fun. It is so invigorating not worrying about the prying eyes of our detractors, who are always on the lookout for even our smallest transgression in Courtly decorum. So please, Empress Hermione; you and your consorts should stand in our presence and treat us as you might each other. Be Hermione to us and we shall be Mina to you and to all your people now and in the future."

"Gladly, I might dispense with formality but I ask of you one thing," Hermione stated formally as she stood; Bella and Cissy followed to their feet.

"And this one thing is?" the Queen of the Vampires asked.

"Please dispense with the royal 'we' and other such pronouns and formal speech; it's hard to be casual when such things are on our tongues," she stated surprisingly glibly; her inner cat's natural aversion to authority—other than her own—showing through. With a sardonic smile she added, "please call me Hermione, Mina; I don't respond to 'kitty, kitty' but 'here pussy' might gain my attention."

"You are not like I expected you to be Hermione," Mina stated bluntly, shifting her pronouns as she spoke.

"I'm not like I expected me to be either," she replied flippantly, "if you had met me earlier this year, you would've met an entirely different person, Mina. I was a straight-laced, authority respecting bookworm denying everything about myself but for my intelligence. Since June, I've found I'm far more like my parents than I had wanted to accept; I've embraced the 'new' me and I'm having a lot more fun doing it, the bakeneko inside me demands it and the cat won't abide by self-effacing or inhibition."

The young looking vampire observed, "Yes, you do seem to be rather anti-ethical and yet I detect a very strong moral code, which you abide by, Hermione. These are the traits needed by true leader, a real Queen or Empress; I've had many years, appearance sake notwithstanding, to practice and pursue such things. I am the Queen to a savage Nation of essentially chaotic creatures who are exclusively carnivores; the politics of appeasement would've seen me usurped a very long time ago. I imagine, as the Empress to a Nation of feline-like creatures, you will face many of the same things that I have. Let's be honest, cats trend towards the chaotic more than dogs do; a Bakeneko Nation without a very strong Empress at its helm would likely be a savage place unlike anything the Kitsune Nation might imagindue to their canine natures. We are far more alike, than different Hermione. The savage display in your Ministry, which my Uncle Vlad would've found quite droll, that announced the Bakeneko's resurgence, was a stroke of genius. It's a pity that only one other truly understood the implication; not that he'll act upon it should he be successful."

Hermione blushed. She wasn't sure how she felt about such praise, on the one hand; it had been rather savage after all. On the other hand, though, Mina's praise and acceptance made the brown-furred bakeneko want to pounce on the 'loli' vampire and lick her all over. That her core was moistening over such thoughts reminded Hermione just how inhuman she had become; such thoughts originally would've made her feel—at least—dirty, her bakeneko had no such reservations and thought the little Vampire Queen was hot. She glanced at Bella and Cissy and noticed the hungry look in the sable-furred cat-girl's eyes—the blonde-furred one not so much—and Hermione figured if she pounced; Bella would too. This was—perhaps—not the proper way to establish relations between nations, at least not this soon.

"Anyways, Hermione," Mina said, "today is more 'meet and greet' than formal, I would like to swim under the Sun before dinner and while you'd be welcome to join me in such frolics; I'm sure you have many questions about this place and the people who call it home. And Zazie . . ."

". . . yes Mina?"

"I intend to share your bed tonight; I wouldn't be averse if you were not alone, providing they can't weaken my position before the Three Clans," the last was said with a glance at Bella and especially towards Hermione. Mina turned and dived expertly into the mirrored surface of the lake. Her head broke surface some distance away and they watched as she receded, using well practiced and strong strokes.

"That was . . . unexpected," Hermione at last commented, Bella giggled; Cissy grinned.

"That's Mina," Zazie stated, "I've know her since she was a baby and played with her and her mother, Lucrezia, quite . . . intimately. Only my other-mother, Evangeline McDowell—not that she has—and I might stand as we do in the presence of Her Majesty; we are not her subjects. Evangeline was a weapon and pointed at Mina; I am that weapon's daughter. I am also very different from those I'm related to and am unable to forage in the manner of my kin; I have no intrinsic abilities towards such feeding and take my sustenance from something far more fundamental than the liquid that resides in ones veins and blood is the mere physical representation of. It is only beneath a full moon that I thirst; my other-mother is the same, having left such needs behind prior to my siring. I suppose, in many ways, my other-mother is an Un-vampire too: if you consider it from our perspective feeding habits.

"Now then," Zazie continued, "I would offer you tea but Pix tells me that my family would like to meet the three of you. We shall take tea with them. Once again, I ask that you remain close; if we have to search for any of you, our tea would grow cold and that would be quite rude to what is likely a fine tea. Please feel free to ask questions as we walk, I'll endeavor to answer all that I can or am permitted to answer."

Following Zazie, the three bakenekos padded back through the un-vampire's sitting and dining area. Surprisingly, she wasn't inclined to put her shoes back on and stepped out barefooted. With a wave of her hand, Hermione vanished her shoes, which were conjurations anyways, and followed. Cissy and Bella glanced at each other and then followed their empress' lead and proceeded on bare feet as well, which their bakenekos appreciated. The three again followed Zazie and once more, she led the cat-girls into the strange forest, which made them all think 'antediluvian'. Bella and Cissy glanced at Hermione, who seemed to be chomping at the bit to ask questions but looked like she was having a hard time deciding what to ask first.

"This place," Hermione at last asked, "It's well beyond any space-expansion charm that I'm privy to. There seems to be a certain permanence to it, too, which one doesn't usually sense from traditional and usually more transient conjurations. It reminds me of King's Cross Station but only on a much grander scale. What is it?"

"The Flaw?" Zazie said.

Hermione nodded and asked, "What do you mean by flaw?'

Their teenaged host replied, "'The Flaw' capitalized, Hermione. The Garden Vale, which is what we're calling our home these days, exists in what is essentially a hole in reality. The actual mechanics surrounding its summoning and existence were lost when the sorcerer—that's what my family called the man who created this place—died. Caster and I maintain The Flaw and we can make minor changes to the weft and the warp of The Tapestry—The Flaw's blue-print you might say—but that's about it; we don't know how it was made or really how it works. We believe Evangeline inherited those magics when she took up residence in the sorcerer's home, before the Vale's inhabitants returned; they had been expelled and locked out some years earlier when the sorcerer died. My other-mother found the place unlocked, unoccupied and choke-full of lost lore and arcane knowledge. Since Evangeline McDowell is ranked—like you and I—as a Supreme Magi and because the Vale's occupants are no slouches when it comes to magical umph, shall we say; most are—after all—the only True Eldars still existent on this plane . . ."

". . . What!" Hermione, Bella and Cissy exclaimed in unison; stepping into legend was not something they had planned on, when they accepted an invitation to Afternoon Tea.

"Yes, quite shocking, I know," the un-vampire agreed, "Anyways, like I was saying. Since any conflict between a Supreme Magus and the Eldar could only lead to vast swaths of destruction in which little would survive and from which neither side would emerge victorious, let alone unscathed; my family decided that withdrawing was the wiser choice. Eventually we did make it back but by then Evangeline had thorough plundered the library and had taken much of it with her. A lot of that knowledge is why she would later become so feared; she could've done a lot more and a lot worse with what she knows. Thankfully—for this world that is—the inherent aloofness and apathy that comes from being a Supreme Magi is as prevalent in her as it is in the rest of us."

"I'm neither aloof nor apathetic," Hermione rejoined somewhat indignantly.

"Hmm, you don't say, Hermione," Zazie said a little sarcastically, "Then what are your goals, pray-tell?"

The brown-furred bakeneko harrumphed and replied, "I intend to gather my family—my bakenekos—and take them where no one will bother or expect anything of us. Where we can live freely and in the manner we choose; the rest of the world can look after itself and leave us be: thank you very much."

Cissy and Bella snickered; Zazie, not so restrained, erupted into side-clutching laughter. Hermione looked at her companions and for a moment thought them mad but then considered what she had said. In light of their laughter, she suddenly felt quite admonished and blushed: aloof and apathetic pretty much summed up her goals rather embarrassingly accurately.

"Fine, fine," Hermione said at last, "I get it; something about becoming a Supreme Witch, Wizard or whatever compels us to withdraw from the active world; essentially we become observers instead of participants but for rare cases."

"That is a lesson every Supreme Magi wrestles with when they first ascend; usually following a severe life-altering event that more or less killed them," Zazie said.

"I didn't die nor did I come close to dying," the brown-furred cat-girl commented.

"What happened to the young uncertain and self-doubting witch I first met at the Ministry, Hermione?" Bella asked, softly.

"I . . . I suppose she's gone now, isn't she?" Hermione replied.

Bellakits leaned in, gave her empress a peck on the lips and said, "yes, and someone far more delectable took her place."

Hermione found herself blushing again; Cissy's soft giggle only deepened the shade.

"Well, that's about all I can tell you about The Flaw, Seeker might know a little bit more but unlikely anything substantial," Zazie stated, "Any other questions before you meet my family?"

"That almost sounds like we are betrothed before seeking our parents' approvals," Cissy tittered.

"Oh, do you see us having such an intimate future, Cissy?" their teenaged escort teased, "Should I be worried about my virtue, not that I ever had any; my first fifteen years were spent living and working in a brothel. It was located in small hamlet called Pfalzgrafenweiler, which was nestled in the heart of Schwarzwald Forest. My name wasn't Zazie Rainyday back then but don't ask me what it was, I can't consciously hear it when its spoken but still respond to it, quite dramatically I might add; it's a binding thing so let's leave it at that."

Hermione found Zazie's statement odd, like there was something important being alluded to but she didn't pursue it; instead she asked, "About your Aspects, then; are they Pixies?"

"They are not pixies, they are me; well parts of me; we are all Zazie," the girl with scar said rather inscrutably, "I actually have three but you'll only ever commonly see Vam and Pix, Zaz doesn't come out very often since I tend to prefer remaining in our body."

Hermione, Cissy and Bellakits looked at the Un-vampire in confusing.

"I'll try to explain," she began, "After I died—for lack of a better word—I woke as a trinary entity. Evangeline snacked on me just before I succumbed to my injuries, which I had sustained thanks to the Lord of Pfalzgrafenweiler; my scar is a remnant and a reminder of the most monumental part of my un-life. Anyways, Evangeline knew I was going to die and when she lifted me from the ground for a quick snack, I thought my mother was embracing me. I poured all of my love into that embrace, just as my other-mother bit. I essentially commenced the first half of the Vampire's Blood Pact; Evangeline, still rather young and inexperienced as vampires go, but with a whole lot more power, didn't realize it and never completed the Pact. She left, thinking I was dead, which I suppose I was, but then Equis and Driver found me and brought me here. After I woke on the following full moon, here in the Garden Vale; my family began training me in various arts so that I might have some type of existence not completely thwart by danger; especially from Evangeline who'd likely kill me if she knew out about me. No one wants an unbound rogue vampire running about. Mina has a team of hunters who actively hunt down and slay rogue vampires; it's actually kind of surprising that Evangeline and I are allowed to exist, hurray for being Supreme Magi I suppose. I also suppose I've wandered off topic.

"So, as I was saying; I woke from my death as a trinary entity," Zazie continued, "we didn't know this at first but while trying to figure out some of the oddities that my adopted family had detected in me; Seeker cast a spell that split my existence into three distinct parts and personalities. It seems that I had inherited a True Fae's heritage from my mother, along with my human heritage from my parents and with what happened between Evangeline and me I gained a third heritage, my vampire heritage. Somehow—likely because I woke as a Supreme Magi too—the three heritages managed to co-exist and even complement each other. Each brings their own sets of abilities to me. Seeker then created three magical 'vehicles' for my Aspects, what you thought were pixies were my vampire and fae thirds in their respective vehicles. Just in case you're curious; I can see through three sets of eyes, hear through three pairs of ears and act in three distinct manners and locations at the same time."

"Wow," Hermione muttered, this was a lot for her intellect to digest and investigate; it was going to love every minute of it.

"One last thing, before we join my family," their teenager looking guide began, "You are about to meet three True Faeries, four True Pixies and three spirit beings; otherwise, none of my family is human. Our Spectral Companions might be there as well but they can be a little odd about meeting strangers; much like—I'm sure—the spectral-companion who I sense accompanying you, Hermione. By the way, he or she may come out if it wants; spectral-companions are always fascinatingly unique and my family is familiar with their idiosyncrasies."

Are you going to come out, Myrtle? Hermione asked; the ghost replied, I think I want to see things with my own eyes, I get a lot of information borrowing your senses, Hermione, but it's still limited compared to my own. With that, a stream of mist flowed from Hermione's chest and grew into Myrtle, still naked and still sporting kitty ears and a tail.

"Hello, I'm Myrtle; it my pleasure to meet you Zazie," the spirit said as she fluttered to their host for a closer look, "Recently, Hermione moved my fifty-year-old anchoring, which was to a toilet at Hogwarts, to a pendant she wears around her neck."

"Why do you look like a cat-girl . . . and naked too?" the un-vampire asked, surprised by the spirit's feline appearance sans ætherial attire, "did you adopt it because you haunt Hermione?"

Myrtle shook her head and said, "This is the form I took when I re-prescienced after my relocation; it seems my self-envisaging changed from my appearance at death; I don't know how to consciously alter my appearance."

"You really look much better than you did before, Myrtle," Bellakits piped in, "we're so going to have to figure how to physically interact with you; at least you can vicariously experience a bit of what your host is feeling."

The ghost grew a little paler, a sure sign of being embarrassed for her; at least see didn't wail and fly away when she was teased now. Hermione put more than just cat-ears and a tail into Myrtle, she put some confidence in too.

"Very well then, welcome Myrtle," Zazie said to the apparition, "I hope that you find your stay . . . stimulating. If Hansel and Gretel actually come out; I'm sure they'll have a lot to teach you and perhaps you'll be able to use a 'spectral-vehicle' as well; we'll have to have to talk to Seeker, if you don't mind of course."

"What would be the benefit of this so-called 'spectral-vehicle'," Myrtle asked.

"It would allow you to interact with the physical plane, as my Aspects do," said their scarred teenager-appearing hostess. "They're bodies facilitate all human senses and then some, even those of the more—shall we say—lascivious nature. I've yet to meet a Spectral-Apparition or Companion who's not frustrated on some fundamental level. The vehicles, or in our twin's cases containers, allow deeper interaction with the physical plane and their living companions."

The look of interest displayed by Myrtle was not missed by the three bakenekos and the three earnestly hoped—for their ghost's sake—that the girl called Zazie was not exaggerating the effects of what she had mentioned. So, beneath the boughs of a fantastic forest, which existed in a magical dale outside of reality and within a carriage; Hermione, Bella and Cissy lost themselves to their internal thoughts as their external selves reveled in the 'conjured' reality that was assaulting their senses. They followed the un-vampire for an indefinite period until at last they stepped into another glade. As the world grew brighter—not that it had been particularly dark—the three bakenekos regained awareness beyond themselves.

Ahead, they saw a large, round table and about it, the remainder of the Garden Vale's inhabitants and one visitor sat, or at least that's what the cat-girls thought. They drew nearer to the circular table and saw their hosts for who they were. Before them, they saw a bluish fairy, a greenish fairy and a purplish fairy—who looked similar to his blue and green companions—with wings flapping languidly on their backs. Upon the wide table, a smaller secondary table sat. At this table four glowing and relatively bright green pixies and with them sat two creatures that Zazie had called her Apects. Rounding out the table was Tsukinohikari Jiuōkā and three wingless others: of these one sported golden fur and feline features but feline features of a she-lion and not a domestic, everyday cat; like Hermione, Cissy and Bella leaned towards, feature wise.

"Welcome my friends," the bluish fairy said as he stood, "it is rare for others to share our table but join us and make yourselves comfortable; I'm sure you'll find our cake and tea to your likings. Is Mina not coming, Zazie?"

"She might be a little late, Seeker, she was enjoying a late afternoon swim when we left her," Zazie replied, "if she arrives, I imagine she'll be dressed most informally; much to Caster, Pix, Shimmer and Glimmer's delight and perhaps a few others. Yes, I'm talking about you Solomon."

The last was addressed to the purplish fairy who darkened noticeably at Zazie's words.

"And what of the remaining members of the Bakeneko Nation; do they not intend to join us, at least for dinner and subsequent after-dinner amusement?" The golden-furred lion-girl asked, "they are as welcome as you three, please invite them if you are able."

Hermione pulled out the cell-phone she had received earlier that summer.

"I don't think that'll work, kitty," said one of the female pixies to Hermione, "I doubt your long-distance plan covers extra-dimensional calling; if it does I'd be very surprised."

After-notes and references:

*. . . Yep, I am old enough to have seen 'Earthquake' in Sensurround™ in the theater.

(1) . . . Zazie Rainyday; Negima! Magister Negi Magi: © 2004, Ken Akamatsu

(2) . . . Evangeline A. K. McDowell; Negima! Magister Negi Magi: © 2004, Ken Akamatsu

(3) . . . Wilhelmina (Mina) Vlad Tepeş; Dance in the Vampire Bund: © 2006, Nozomu Tamaki