Hogwarts: A little lion in the skin of the Eagle School

After Mr. Weasley's visit ended, the two returned to John's house together.

"Mom and Dad, we're back."

When John got home, his parents had already returned.

"Oh, is Hermione here?"

John's mother was the first to run to the entrance.

Then, upon seeing Hermione, before Hermione could even greet him, he ran up and hugged her.

"Auntie missed you so much, little Hermione~"

Hermione was immediately pulled into his arms and squeezed and pinched.

Although it wasn't the first time, she still felt a little uncomfortable...

After a struggle, she finally broke free from John's mother's warm embrace, her cheeks slightly flushed and a few strands of her hair still clinging to it.

Like a kitten that's been stroked too much and is trying to regain its composure.

"Hello, Auntie and Uncle."

After Hermione caught her breath, she finally had time to greet John's parents.

John's father smiled kindly and nodded: "Please sit down, make yourself at home, and order whatever you like."

After speaking, he looked at his son, who was lying dead beside him, and adopted the expression of a stern father.

"Sit up straight, you're not sitting properly."

?

John, who had just lain down, looked at his elderly father in disbelief.

No, are you being hypocritical?

John slowly sat up straight, his back barely touching the back of the chair.

Seeing the expressions on the faces of the father and son, Hermione and John's mother exchanged a glance and laughed.

"Hermione, call home and let your parents know you're safe and sound, so they don't worry."

Hermione nodded, went to John's landline, picked up the phone, and dialed.

John sat on the sofa with his elderly father, staring at each other.

"snort."

?

The old father suddenly hummed out of the blue.

John was completely bewildered.

What did I do to you again?

"He didn't even write a single letter back all semester."

Well, he has his reasons for being angry.

"...Didn't I write it later...?"

John stammered.

"You wrote less than fifty words, and it's all one-sided notification. Is this how you write a letter home?"

John was speechless.

"Look at little Hermione, she knows how to write us letters, and you, her own son, are not as good as her."

The older father grew angrier as he spoke, and pulled out a piece of paper with two pages of writing on it.

Compared to this, John's letters were practically just work notes.

John was also surprised, knowing that Hermione had written to his parents to let them know he was safe.

But I didn't expect him to write so much and be so serious.

No, that makes me seem very unfilial!

Hermione quickly hung up the phone and returned, just in time to hear her father sighing as he held up the letter: "The handwriting is neat and clear, and he even remembers exactly what kind of tea we like to drink..."

"It's said that having a son only brings happiness on the day he's born and the day he gets married, while having a daughter only brings unhappiness on the day she's born and the day she gets married, and happiness all the time."

"I knew it!"

"I wish I could switch kids with my brother..."

Listening to his father complain like a wronged woman, John looked down and picked at the crack in the sofa, giving Hermione a disgruntled glare.

He used to be his father's best son, and he was never compared or criticized like this.

But ever since Hermione visited his home, he has become increasingly undesirable in his parents' eyes.

Hermione smiled faintly throughout.

Then I saw her take a box of pastries out of her luggage and gently place it on the coffee table.

"Uncle, these are some tea snacks I bought especially for you and Auntie. They're all your favorite flavors."

John: ?

No, when did you buy it?

"Oh, oh, you came all this way, why did you bring a gift? You're so thoughtful."

Upon hearing Hermione's words, the old father immediately snapped out of his resentment, put on a kind smile, and took the pastry box, nodding repeatedly.

John rubbed his temples; this house seemed somewhat unsuitable for living...

"Alright, alright, come and eat."

At this moment, the old mother finally came out of the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot roast chicken and greeted the group.

"Hermione, sit here—John, stop standing there and set the table."

John reluctantly got up, and Hermione, though still smiling, diligently helped set the table, serve the salad, and portion the roast chicken into plates.

At least they have some conscience...

No way! You've taken all my work, what am I supposed to do?

Sure enough, the next second, the father's loving fist landed precisely on the back of John's head.

......

night.

The two adults went to bed early.

John and Hermione were left alone in the living room.

Hermione sat on the sofa, now dressed in casual clothes. She looked less dignified and serious than usual, and more relaxed and soft, as if she had been steamed by hot water.

She was barefoot, her toes unconsciously curling into the carpet fibers, holding a cup of warm honey lemon water in her hands.

My gaze silently followed John as he wandered around the room.

John is examining the warning spells he left behind last summer.

It looks to be in pretty good condition, so there's no need to rearrange it.

After he finished his inspection and returned to the sofa, he found Hermione staring at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" John asked curiously.

"It's nothing, I was just thinking about the first time I spent Christmas here with you."

Hermione smiled and reminisced.

"You weren't even as tall as me back then. I never imagined that just two years later you'd be taller than me."

"I remember Harry wasn't this tall when he was in third year."

Upon hearing this, John puffed out his chest smugly.

"Of course."

Hermione shook her head with a smile, giving him a sarcastic remark.

"But you were cuter back then."

"I call that masculinity!" John retorted, dissatisfied.

Hermione burst out laughing at those words.

"With your skinny arms and legs, what are you pretending to be an adult for?"

These words made John angry.

Who do you think you are!

John sprang up from the sofa and, to Hermione's alarmed surprise, scooped her up in a princess carry.

Hermione gasped in surprise, then hurriedly wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"Put me down..."

Faced with Hermione's pleas for mercy, John deliberately bounced her around, causing Hermione to let out another soft cry.

Her struggles were as weak and feeble as a kitten kicking its legs.

"oops--!"

"Stop fooling around~ What if your uncle and aunt find out..."

Hermione blushed and huddled in John's arms, saying no but her body language betraying her words.

Carrying someone in a princess carry is an art.

The person being held is completely weightless and unable to move on their own in this position, and must entrust their entire body weight and safety to the other person.

This forced dependence can instantly raise the trust threshold.

If the person being hugged feels safe and secure, the sense of trust will transform into intimacy.

But if you feel uncomfortable, that trust can turn into a slap in the face...

In short, please try this with caution.