Harry found Sirius' attic ideal for his fast and meditation.
He soon realized that he was ill-suited for life as a monk. Half a lifetime spent locked in a spider-haunted broom cupboard had bred in him a love of openness, of freedom. But the isolation offered another, unexpected brand of freedom. It freed his mind to explore other avenues he might have overlooked under normal conditions. He found within himself the ability to reach both outward and inward simultaneously. It was a journey of self-discovery which he found enriching.
He found himself passing hour upon hour staring out the window at a landscape he had thought to know well, yet which now yielded minutiae to which he had been selectively blind. Other times he sat or lay on the padded mat he had chosen in lieu of a bed, or paced the small loft slowly, his attention constantly drawn to the smallest and most insignificant of things, yet in which he seemed to find complexities unguessed and unsuspected.
He took repeated notice of the ubiquitous spiders inhabiting the dark corners of the eaves. They invariably reminded him of his confinement at the Dursleys. He'd spent much of the first day endeavoring to purge the bitterness in his soul over these memories, an acrimony he'd thought was long behind him, yet which clearly was not.
Slowly, hour by hour, he began to shrug off the physical and embrace the spiritual. The growing weakness brought on by lack of food and water fogged his thoughts; but in those mists of near-delirium, unencumbered by reason or logic, he glimpsed vistas unseen and unimagined by his rational mind.
And in the end, he found he was glad he'd experienced this awakening. He was certain it would serve him when his isolated fast ended and the real journey began.
Hermione was undergoing similar changes during her period of self-denial. Some of the revelations she experienced were nothing short of startling, given the regimented nature of her logical, well-ordered mind.
It would have been impractical for Hermione to use her parents' house for her self-imposed isolation, as had Harry (Sirius being his defacto parent). A Muggle house was too far removed from the magical world, transcendentally speaking. Even were the Granger house transplanted to the heart of Hogsmeade, the two would still be separated by a gulf wider than the Grand Canyon. Therefore, Hermione was touched beyond words when Molly Weasley offered her the use of a room at the Burrow.
"Hush, child," Molly soothed as Hermione fell teary-eyed into her arms. "None of that, now. You're family to us, and always will be."
"Mrs. Weasley..." Hermione choked.
"Molly, dear," the older woman said in a motherly tone that quietly settled the matter.
"Thank you, Molly."
"Mum, you don't have to do this," Ron said with an exasperation that was growing tiresome. "Harry has gold. He can buy the best robes -- "
"Store-bought robes!" Molly snorted derisively. "On the most important day of their lives! Not bloody likely! Pardon my French."
Molly was touching the tip of her wand along the hem of a brilliant white robe in a rapid succession of taps; at each light touch, a fine white thread wove through the fabric until a smooth, even seam resulted.
"Harry is like a son to me," Molly said in a low murmur.
Ron almost thought he heard "son-in-law" in his mother's declaration.
"We are holding the after-ceremony," Ron argued. "This will take ages."
Molly seemed not to be listening, busy smoothing a sleeve prior to pinning it into place before hemming.
"Wish you'd taken the time to alter those grotty dress robes I had to wear to the Yule Ball in fourth year," Ron mumbled.
"Maybe if you hadn't always been getting into trouble," Molly said without looking up. "Crashing your father's car -- "
"MUM!" Ron burst out. "Aren't you ever going to -- "
But Ron's explosion was cut short when Molly grabbed him roughly, pulled him to her and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.
"I love you, son," Molly said in a choked whisper as Ron straightened, his face going red. "Now off with you! Hermione will be down tomorrow, and I've still loads of work to do."
Ron left, shaking his head as he sighed deeply, but essaying a haunted smile in spite of himself.