Because of the Shelby family, dusk in Surrey always carried a special tranquility and warmth.
Soft, brilliant sunlight poured across the streets.
Residents strolled leisurely along both sides of the road, digesting dinner. Laughter and scattered dog barks wove together into a melodious tune before nightfall.
Hermione walked arm-in-arm with her mother, enjoying the cool breeze across her cheeks. The long-awaited family dinner left her feeling rare contentment.
When their relaxed steps passed the Shelby pub, she slowed down. Her eyes drifted over.
The lively atmosphere leaked faintly through doors and windows. Figures crowded together. Cheerful, excited shouts rose and fell.
Clearly, this was a welcome party for Tiger and Theodore.
"Want to go in and say hello?"
"You haven't seen Tommy and the others in ages."
Mrs. Granger looked meaningfully at her daughter. But Hermione just shook her head and kept walking, irritation flashing in her eyes.
"No thanks, Mom."
"You said it yourself—we shouldn't get involved in men's fun. They're all heartless children."
Whenever she remembered the gentleness Tiger showed Cat-Hermione, her chest ached.
Especially when Tiger discovered she couldn't transform back—that look of lifetime regret in his eyes.
Better not to think about it. The more she thought, the angrier she got.
But why was she angry?
Confusion gradually rose in Hermione's eyes.
She could clearly sense the changes in her heart, that indescribable longing and attachment.
But this feeling was so foreign she couldn't accurately describe it.
The only thing she was certain of—her feelings for Tiger had quietly surpassed the pure friendship she had with Harry and Ron.
As night fell, streetlights glowed with soft amber light, guiding people home.
Hermione and Mrs. Granger didn't go home. Instead, they sat on the bench in the small yard, gazing at brilliant stars, enjoying the peace of the summer night.
Dr. Granger's roars accompanied the intense game, faintly leaking through window cracks, carrying unmistakable passion.
Mrs. Granger glanced sideways, her eyes showing gentle but helpless amusement.
"Sometimes I really want to throw him out..."
What was supposed to be a family walk became one man's party with the TV.
Just then, Hermione turned to her mother. Her cheeks flushed slightly, her tone carrying shyness.
"Mom, what exactly is love?"
Though the murmur was barely audible, Mrs. Granger raised her eyebrows in surprise. Playfulness flickered in her loving eyes.
With growth's footsteps, the once naive and proud little girl gradually shed her innocence.
Her inner world grew richer and more complex, welcoming many troubles and questions.
Unfortunately, this question was too complex.
Even Mrs. Granger, married for many years, pondered for a long time. Finally, she turned her gaze to the warm window.
Behind it, Dr. Granger's excited cheers came faintly. His fist-pumping, hip-swinging figure looked indescribably childish.
"Love is..."
Her bright, gentle eyes gradually sank into memory.
"Walking through spring, summer, autumn, and winter together. Experiencing life's changes together. Witnessing life's ups and downs together."
"It's me looking into this fool's eyes and saying—we've been through so much. Among all living beings, we only recognize each other. It's me praying to God that if there's a next life..."
"I still want to stay with this fool."
A slight smile curved her weathered lips.
Despite countless complaints about her husband, she simply couldn't let go of this feeling.
Otherwise, why would she believe in God?
Mrs. Granger slowly withdrew her distant gaze, settling all that tenderness deep in her daughter's confused yet pure eyes. Her smile turned helpless.
"Darling, this question is too complex."
"Love is a mystery..."
"Only after you personally walk through this long yet short life, experiencing storms with the person beside you, will you find the answer that belongs to you."
Right. Mrs. Granger's life experience was too long for Hermione, far exceeding the scope of answers she needed. She couldn't truly understand.
"How about we talk about 'like' instead?"
Perhaps sensing the confusion in her daughter's eyes, Mrs. Granger smiled slightly. With a relaxed manner, she pinched Hermione's cheek and steered the topic lighter.
Love was too heavy.
"Like..."
Hermione murmured unconsciously.
In her originally chaotic thoughts, scenes flashed clearly as if from yesterday.
At the Christmas banquet dance, she nestled tightly in Tiger's embrace, dancing to the melodious tune, as if the whole world stood still.
Though that wasn't the real Tiger.
Visible pink spread from her neck to her ear tips. Hermione covered her burning cheeks.
Damn Gemma Farley!
She really screwed her over!
"Wow..."
Mrs. Granger raised her eyebrows slightly, as if realizing something. Her eyes showed both surprise and amusement.
Once upon a time, she too was an innocent young girl.
Seeing her daughter like this, how could she not understand these complex emotions?
"I..."
"I don't know if this is 'like.'"
Hermione answered sullenly:
"I just remember—after asking Tiger to spend Christmas together, I was happy every day. Like I was glowing. Like everything I did was lucky..."
So it's unrequited love.
"Oh, you poor thing."
Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter's head.
Then she pulled Hermione into her arms, listening to her daughter grumble about Tiger's faults.
This was the age of innocent ignorance.
Even her perceptive daughter struggled to understand these inexplicable emotions. What about Tiger then?
After all, even at fifteen, Dr. Granger was still sweating freely on the court. Those girls on the sidelines probably held less appeal than a new pair of cleats.
That's boys—whether grown or not, play always comes first. A straight stick by the roadside occupies more of their time than pretty girls.
To further confirm her daughter's thoughts and offer more effective advice to her daughter who was rather impoverished in certain areas, Mrs. Granger cleared her throat and guided softly:
"Darling, if Tiger asked you to meet, would you..."
"I'd run there."
Hermione sat up abruptly, her eyes extraordinarily determined, as if joining some great organization.
Because she knew—a nasty bitch was eyeing Tiger with extremely shameless methods.
She had to stand in front of Tiger!
Mrs. Granger: "..."
I meant you should learn makeup first or something. You don't need to be so eager. Tiger's still young.
"Haha! 3-0!"
"I knew it—Leeds United only deserves to polish Manchester United's shoes! Haha, I'm calling Arthur!"
"Victory! We won!"
Behind the window, Dr. Granger twisted his body clumsily, roaring and pumping his fists, nearly tripping. His extreme excitement rivaled his wedding night.
Mrs. Granger covered her face and sighed.
Her husband wasn't much better.
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