*****
The days passed slowly for everyone, but for Harry they simply blurred together. He didn't really care what was
happening to them, or what was happening in them. He let the world worry about itself for a bit.
Hermione kept herself occupied doing nothing but busy work most of the time. Other times she just watched Harry over
the cover of a book. She watched him putter around, touching her nick knacks and fingering old magazines lying on her
coffee table. He still wasn't eating much, but at least he was eating something. She ducked her eyes back down to
her book as he turned in his direction.
"I'm not doing anything interesting," he told her. She blushed behind her book.
"What?" she asked. He shook his head and turned back to the window. She glanced at him again, wondering why he spent hours doing just that.
"What are you looking for?" she finally asked him. He paused, and turned to face her, furrowing his brow.
"What do you mean?"
"Staring out the window. You're always staring out the window." He turned away from her and looked out the window again.
"I wonder how many of them know what happened with Voldemort, and then I wonder how the few that do know go on with their lives. How can they just move on, forget what even happened? And the muggles that cooperated with him to save their own necks, how do they go on with their lives knowing that they have the blood of innocents on their hands?"
He turned to look at a slightly shocked Hermione. This was the most he had said in several days, and the most emotion he had shown in several weeks.
"I don't know," she answered, thinking about the death eaters she killed in the war. They may have been the bad guys, but it was still taking a human life. Harry shook his head and turned back to the window.
"Do you think they're happy in their ignorance, Hermione?" She had to think about this for a moment.
"I," she started; she paused to think about this for a moment. "I don't really see how they can't be," she said quietly.
He sighed and shut the blinds. The dwindling light caused most of the colour in the room to disappear, leaving only dark tints on the wall.
He stormed off a moment later and Hermione watched him go. She knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. The saying "the truth hurts" was running through her head and she smiled bitterly as she threw her book across the room and watched satisfactorily as it landed in a heap against the wall.
"Where are you going?" she asked when she saw him come out a few moments later from the bedroom. He had changed; he was now in dark blues, almost black.
"To Ron's."
"The Burrow?" He shook his head. She understood. Molly and Arthur Weasley had taken Harry under their wing
when he was 12 and she had grown closer to him after Arthur's death. The smothering mother was not what he needed
right now.
"Is this guys only?" she asked. He nodded. She just about told him to have fun, but held back. "See you
later," she finished as he stepped into the fireplace. He threw a glance at the copy of 'Hogwarts: A
History' that was crumpled against the wall, but said nothing.
"Ron's!" he called out as he threw down the powder and disappeared. She stood quietly for a moment before
heading to open the curtains he had shut. But when she got there, she hesitated. Hermione turned away and picked up her
book from the floor, smoothing pages and brushing the cover as if apologizing to an old friend. She placed the book on
the coffee table before grabbing her own cloak and wand.
"The Burrow!" she called as she headed off to get some motherly advice from the only mother the three of them
had left.
*****