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Harry looked slowly around the room. He had never been in Hermione's flat before. It was different from her parent's house. She had grown up in a house full of bright whites, yellows and other bright colours.
This flat was muted, the colours flat and lifeless. Darker colours, nothing like at Sirius' place. though. She had blues so dark as to almost be purple, and a green that teetered on the brink of being.
"It's not much," she said as she followed him out of the fireplace.
"It's just right," he said, his voice still flat and emotionless. He did mean what he said, even if it didn't sound like it. She smiled a little as she tossed the bag she had packed for him into the middle of the floor. He watched as she sneaked around him to lay his broom on her kitchen table.
"It's different," he said as he looked around a little.
"Is that bad?" Hermione asked as she turned to look at him.
"No," he said slowly after a minute. "Just different." She nodded and turned back to the fridge.
"Want anything?" He opened his mouth to say no, but knew she'd bring him something anyway.
"Sure," he said. He wandered over to the window and stood in front of it, just staring at the street below. He didn't flinch when he felt her lop an arm around his waist and hold out a chocolate frog to him.
"I couldn't really find anything else," she said sheepishly, opening hers without removing her arms around Harry. She smiled as she saw her card.
"Who did you get?" he asked.
"You first," she told him.
"Hermione Granger," he read. "While maintaining top grades, Ms. Granger helped, along with fellow classmates, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter defeat The Dark Lord. The Trio have since gone their separate ways with Ms. Granger returning to teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
She shook her head.
"Harry Potter," she started. "The Boy Who Lived, along with classmates Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, led the fight against the Dark Lord. He alone defeated the dark wizard. Mr. Potter has since withdrawn from the wizarding world for a well deserved break," she finished. "I found Ron's card the other day," she told him.
"Was he excited?"
"He ripped it out of my hands and Flooed home to show his mum," she said with a small smile.
Harry sighed; Ron should have been able to share his card with his father too, but he couldn't.
Harry glanced at the street below again, at all the little people going about their night. They didn't understand what had happened, some didn't even know and they seemed happy in their ignorance.
"What is it?" she asked.
He shook his head. She didn't push him. She stayed where she was, her arms still around his waist. He enjoyed the warmth against his back. He also enjoyed the fact that she was undemanding, accepting his choice not to talk about things with out pushing. He liked the new Hermione.
When they had been in school, she would have pushed him until he yelled at her and she stormed out of the common room. She then would have followed him up a few minutes later and tried again before finally relenting and apologizing. She had changed a lot since school, of course, that might simply be because she was no longer lugging around masses of books, quills, inkpots and other things she crammed into her bag. She was also more confident, and manipulative.
"You should go shower," she said after a long silence. He patted her hands, but didn't move.
"Harry, I will not have a greasy git in my bed," she told him. He paused his patting.
"I'm not a git," he said. He turned to look at her. She arched an eyebrow at him.
"Fine, I'll go," he said as he stalked off. She went over the duffel bag and dug out an old dark red shirt and black shorts. She couldn't take his mourning clothes away from him yet, not completely yet. She opened the door to the bathroom and threw them in before she dressed for bed herself.
She laid in the dark, listening to the water running in the other room. If only washing away layers of pain and guilt were as easy as washing away layers of dirt and grim, she thought to herself. She heard the water shut off and she waited. She heard the floor creaking as he walked around it and she heard it grow silent. She assumed it would only last for a moment but when it dragged on, she grew restless until it drove her from the bed.
"What are you doing?" she asked when she saw him on the couch.
"Thinking about going to sleep," he told her.
"I was waiting for you." They stared at each other for a moment. "I'll stay on my half if you want," she told him. He stared at her for a moment.
"What are you . . ." she walked over and took his hand, leading him into her room and pushing him onto the bed before she climbed in the other side. They looked at each other for a moment before he turned his back to her, lying down. She hesitated for a moment before she settled next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist again. A silence fell over them and the soft glow of the moon and the streetlights came in the window as the two fell into a restless sleep.
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