A suspicious flush crept up Hermione's cheeks. She didn't respond to her mother's teasing, but simply gripped Lia's hand tighter.
The strength of her grip was less about comforting and more about staking a claim of ownership.
"Alright, let's get in the car." Mr. Granger cleared his throat, resuming his role as the head of the family as he led the way to the parking lot.
As she sat inside the spacious Ford, Lia's body tensed up again; this was still an experience she found difficult to adjust to.
This iron box called a "car" was cramped and enclosed, smelling of a mix of leather, plastic, and a strange fragrance. Accompanied by the low rumble of the engine starting, it still made her feel uneasy.
A warm hand covered her fist, which had turned white-knuckled from the strain.
"It's alright, it's safe," Hermione's voice whispered in her ear, carrying a reassuring magic. "It's taking us home."
Lia turned her head and saw Hermione's sincere eyes, which were filled with "trust me." Only then did her tense muscles begin to relax, bit by bit.
She still stayed very close, practically clinging to Hermione. Her long tail peeked out from under the hem of her robes, like a soft, snow-white blanket draped over their overlapping legs.
Mr. Granger's hand on the steering wheel gave an imperceptible tremor.
In the rearview mirror, he could clearly see the girl's silver hair, her pale face, and the lingering wariness in her sky-blue eyes.
And his daughter, Hermione—who had always been independent and even a bit of a "little adult"—was currently holding the girl half-embraced in an unprecedented protective stance, whispering soothing words with a focus and tenderness he had never seen before.
He couldn't help but feel like his own little cabbage was about to root up another little cabbage, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence in their country.
Mrs. Granger sat on the other side. She didn't interrupt the two girls' private conversation, but watched them with a gentle, scrutinizing gaze.
As a mother, she could sense the overflowing, almost tangible love and sense of responsibility coming from her daughter.
She had originally thought her daughter had just kept a particularly clever magical pet that could turn into a human.
But now, it seemed things were far more complicated than she had imagined. From that brief meeting at Christmas to this inseparable behavior, that level of care had transcended mere affection for a pet.
The car drove smoothly into a quiet middle-class neighborhood, finally stopping in front of a two-story house with a beautiful garden.
"We're here," Hermione said, her voice carrying a hint of the lightness of returning home.
Lia followed Hermione into the space she had visited once before. A familiar scent—a mix of books, disinfectant, and a faint floral fragrance—filled her nose. Everything here was orderly: polished floors, neat bookshelves, and warm family photos of The Grangers hanging on the walls.
This was the smell of "home."
"Are you hungry?" Mrs. Granger had already changed into her house clothes and peeked out from the kitchen with a beaming smile. "I specifically bought some fresh salmon to grill. No pepper or onions."
Lia instinctively looked at Hermione, as if seeking instructions.
Hermione nodded to her and encouraged, "Mom's grilled fish is very delicious."
Having received permission, Lia moved in small steps to the dining table. On a clean white porcelain plate sat a small piece of steaming, fragrant fish. Beside it, Hermione had already opened the velvet box and taken out the set of round-tipped cutlery, skillfully placing them by her hand.
The Grangers watched this scene, their eyes meeting again. They hadn't felt this way during the brief encounter at Christmas.
But now, this had become a natural daily routine. Their daughter, the always rigorous and self-disciplined Hermione who valued logic above all, was now caring for another girl's daily life with an almost instinctive skill, right down to the choice of utensils.
This left them with mixed feelings—both the pride of seeing their daughter grow up and a subtle sense that their "cabbage" already belonged to someone else.
After dinner, Lia seemed to relax quite a bit. Under Hermione's gaze, she transformed back into her Ragdoll Cat form.
A large, fluffy, snow-white bundle, she curled up elegantly on the armrest of the living room sofa, her blue eyes half-squinted as she lazily surveyed the new home where she would be staying long-term.
Overwhelmed with affection, Mrs. Granger brought over a small saucer of warm milk and placed it in front of her.
Lia sniffed it but didn't drink. Instead, she reached out to paw at Hermione's trouser leg.
Hermione was discussing a summer reading list with her mother. Seeing this, she smiled dotingly.
She walked over, dipped a finger into the milk, and brought it to Lia's mouth. Only then did Lia stick out her pink tongue to lick it clean, even licking Hermione's fingertip as if she hadn't had enough.
Mrs. Granger watched in amazement and lowered her voice to her husband, "See that? She only recognizes Hermione."
"She only trusts me," Hermione said, her tone carrying unabashed pride and satisfaction.
Night gradually deepened, and the evening news played on the television. Hermione and her mother were washing dishes in the kitchen, leaving only Mr. Granger with his newspaper and the cat on the sofa in the living room.
Mr. Granger's gaze drifted again and again from the edge of the newspaper toward that fluffy white creature.
So beautiful.
That long fur was like clouds or snow, and those eyes were like the purest sapphires.
Just... one pet. Definitely not a second time.
He put down the newspaper, cleared his throat, and stood up as if nothing were wrong, walking toward the sofa. His movements were slow, like he was approaching a wary bird in the forest.
Lia's ears twitched slightly, but she didn't open her eyes.
Closer. Even closer.
Mr. Granger's hand slowly reached out, his fingertips trembling slightly with anticipation. He could almost feel the intoxicatingly soft touch that the long fur was about to provide.
Just a second before his fingertips were about to touch that patch of snow-white.
Swish!
The white cat on the sofa vanished instantly.
Mr. Granger's hand froze in mid-air, touching only cold air.
He looked up in bewilderment, only to see a white shadow darting silently into the kitchen at a speed difficult for the naked eye to track.
A cat's meow came from the kitchen, followed by the uncontrollable giggles of Hermione and her mother.
Mr. Granger awkwardly withdrew his hand, his face flushing red as he quickly walked to the kitchen door.
He saw the snow-white Ragdoll Cat crouching at Hermione's feet, her long fluffy tail curled upward, intimately yet possessively wrapping around Hermione's calf.
The cat looked up and gazed at him quietly with those sky-blue eyes.
There was no hostility in that gaze, only a declaration so clear it couldn't be clearer:
I only want her!
Hermione felt her calf tighten. That fluffy touch carried an undeniable sense of possessiveness that made her heart skip a beat, and a strange sense of satisfaction welled up within her.
That's right, you are mine.
A voice whispered quietly in her heart.
Mr. Granger stood frozen for a moment, then laughed helplessly. He glanced at his daughter. Hermione was looking down at the tail wrapped around her ankle, her face wearing a smile he had never seen before—a mix of doting indulgence and absolute satisfaction.
"Alright, Lia, Stop fooling around." Hermione bent down, gathered the cat into her arms, and skillfully scratched her chin, eliciting a comfortable purr.
Holding the cat, she looked up at her father and said, "Dad, Lia only lets me hold her." Her tone carried a small, boastful hint of pride.
"Alright, alright, I see." Mr. Granger adjusted his glasses to hide his disappointment and amusement. "It seems I'll have to earn this 'little princess's' trust first. This might be harder than pulling a wisdom tooth."
Hermione didn't answer, but simply hugged the warm softness in her arms, turning to take Lia upstairs.
"We're going to go rest now."
"Goodnight, dear," Mrs. Granger's voice came from the kitchen, full of laughter.
Hermione's bedroom was clean and tidy, with bookshelves filled with various books. She placed Lia on the bed and then closed the door.
With a click, the door locked.
All the noise and prying eyes of the outside world were shut out.
Hermione turned around and looked at Lia, who had already transformed back into her Cat-girl form on the bed. She was curiously surveying this private space that belonged to Hermione.
"Welcome home, Lia." Hermione walked over and hugged her gently from behind, resting her chin in the crook of Lia's shoulder, her warm breath brushing against Lia's ear.
Lia stiffened for a moment from the stimulation of the breath, then slowly relaxed. Her long silver hair brushed against Hermione's cheek, tickling her. She turned her head, and Hermione's gentle face was reflected in her sky-blue eyes.
She gave a soft "Mm," and her tail quietly and possessively wrapped around Hermione's waist.
---
In Hermione's room, everything carried her unique scent. The ink of books, the slight bitterness of parchment, and a faint, clean scent from the girl herself, like sun-dried cotton.
Lia took a deep breath, drawing the scent deep into her lungs. This was a scent that allowed her to sleep peacefully; it was the scent of safety.
Hermione had prepared an extremely soft bean bag chair for her by the window, topped with two fluffy pillows. It looked like a private throne prepared for a cat.
"That's your spot," Hermione said, pointing to the bean bag. "You can lie there and bask in the sun."
Lia took one look at it but walked straight to Hermione's bed, which was covered in pale purple sheets. She threw herself onto it without hesitation, burying her face deep into Hermione's pillow like a little beast occupying its master's territory.
She rubbed against it contentedly; the scent of Hermione on the pillow was even stronger.
Hermione watched this, shaking her head with a mix of helplessness and amusement; she had expected this. No "private territory" could ever be as attractive to Lia as the small space right beside her.
"You smell like sweat. Get up and take a bath first." Hermione took her pajamas out of the wardrobe and handed Lia a large nightgown.
"Take... take a bath..." Lia looked up, her sky-blue eyes filled with confusion and a hint of panic.
During Christmas, she had always transformed into a cat, and then Hermione would bathe her like a pet. That feeling had been very comfortable and reassuring.
But... but now she was in human form!
At the thought of Hermione's hands on her human body... doing this and that, and that and this... Lia's cheeks burned with a whoosh, and even the tips of her white cat ears turned a lovely shade of pink.
"No... it's not okay..." she stammered, her eyes darting away. "It's, it's way too advanced!"
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