" I suppose I should be grateful," said Mr. Granger, "and I am very glad that at least she writes. But I wish she would be more careful to explain things. Her last letter before the holidays, for example. She said that once every few years, there was no Christmas holiday at Hogwarts because wizards use a different calendar. This was one of those years, so she wouldn't be able to join us for the holidays, because she was going to be going to classes at school. We'd a surprise vacation planned, but had to cancel it. No point in going without her, of course. She'd never mentioned that wizards have a different calendar."Skeeter's expression did not change in the slightest. "That's really too bad about the holiday," she said. "But I'm sure she fill you in when she comes home for the summer." I doubt it," said Mrs. Granger. "But one can always hope."Skeeter was very happy about her own letter that she'd received from Hermione, just after Christmas, in which Hermione released Skeeter from. "I did not drool. I don't drool." She tried to look more alert and failed miserably, earning a tender smile from him at the effort. "I'm fine," she said. "Really," she added at his look of disbelief.He smoothed down her hair, hooking a rope of it behind her ear and letting his hand trail down to the collar of her jacket. He played with the button there, his fingers brushing against the warm skin of her collarbone. When she didn't push his hand away but leaned against him, he knew she was more tired than he had even thought. The fire was missing, the other emotions; stress, horror, sorrow, were all too evident. She needed to recharge, to find her balance before this case took her down too many emotional roller coasters.She needed to curl up in his big bed, held safe in his arms, her head resting on his chest. They would sleep, eat and make love every day for a week. They would recharge each other, comfort each other, hold each other until the world looked right again. Or as right as it.
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