“Ron?” she squeaked. “Ron. Neville.” She pointed back over her left shoulder almost in the direction they were now headed. “Swing your leg o...er,” Ron yelled again, trying to pull Hermione high enough to climb onto his broom. She was swinging wildly and missing. With each swing and miss she would say, “We have to… get Neville,” not noticing that they were moving farther into the forest, not toward the gate. Finally, she hooked a heel and swung up onto the broom, grabbing tightly to Ron’s waist;. I felt a twinge deep down inside. I grabbed her bags, she grabbed my arm, and we headed out. Planning ahead, I had gotten a set of all-day rides passes for us, so we headed for the fair. Though I am a loner, I do enjoy the anonymity of being in a crowd. The sights and sounds of a fair thrill me just by being a part of it. Taking the park-and-ride, we chatted like we had never lost touch. Standing close, I could see how the years had touched her with fine lines etched around her eyes, her fair. More

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