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Hermione wakes at the sensation of someone tapping her shoulder. Despite a week having passed since the battle at Hogwarts, her nerves are shot and she jostles at the slightest touch. Even Harrie's: the girl she shared a dorm room with for six years, the person she knows best in the world. Ron's a close second, but Harrie burrowed into her heart years ago and Hermione's never figured out what to do about it.
"Sorry," Harrie whispers in the darkness. She's all shadow and bits of features even under the dim light of the moon and stars shining through the window.
Hermione lifts herself partway up onto her elbows. "What is it?"
"I think we should check on that dragon," Harrie says. "The one from Gringotts."
Hermione closes her eyes. When she opens them again, Harrie is still there, leaning over her, and talking about dragons. In the middle of the night. "The stars are still out, for god's sake."
Harrie doesn't acknowledge the comment. "Charlie said that it was taken to a preserve in Ireland, but we should check on it anyway. To make sure it's being taken care of."
Hermione, who has never had an encounter with a dragon in which she hasn't been scared out of her mind, doesn't agree. Harrie's experience with dragons has been much worse than hers, but Harrie's a different kind of Gryffindor. The utterly ridiculous, daredevil kind. "Go back to sleep, Harrie."
"But the dragon."
"Tomorrow, okay?" Before Harrie can say that it already is tomorrow and force Hermione to smother her with a pillow, Hermione adds, "When it's daylight. Afternoon. Afternoon sounds really nice right now."
"Fine," Harrie says, dragging out the word.
"Why are you so awake?"
Harrie's shrug is barely visible. "The usual."
"Nightmares."
"Uh-huh."
Hermione sighs and scoots over toward the wall. The bed is a twin and while Harrie's rather short and lanky, Hermione isn't. This was easier when they were children. They're not children anymore, but habits die hard. Harrie doesn't hesitate to get in beside her, only grabbing her own pillow before curling close and growing quiet. It's almost irritating, just how content Hermione feels at the sensation of her best friend sleeping next to her. Maybe it's because she's never tried with anyone else. She may have had a few kisses here and there, but it's only Harrie who has ever occupied her bed, albeit platonically.
Hermione falls asleep to the sound of Harrie's breathing.
Just last week, she'd thought that Harrie was gone forever. She'd watched Hagrid bring her limp body out of the Forbidden Forest and felt ice fill her veins. It's been slow to thaw. Every so often, she catches herself looking for Harrie to make sure that she's still there.
In the morning, Harrie still wants to go to the dragon preserve.
Ron bows out, as do the other Weasleys, so Hermione straps on her oldest boots and away they go. Charlie side-alongs them to the edge of the preserve and helps them obtain visitor's passes, then leaves them to their dragon-watching. Like the rest of the Weasleys, he's subdued, and only makes an attempt at his former good cheer. Hermione can't imagine losing a sibling. Her own parents aren't lost, at least. No matter how angry they will be with her when she restores their memories, they will still be alive. That's all Hermione needs.
She and Harrie take a winding path toward the dragon's new den. Hermione's leg muscles burn after the first hour. She doesn't complain. Harrie's quiet today, contemplative. Her eyes brighten when they catch sight of the dragon bringing some charred prey home to its den. It is forever free from the confines of Gringotts. Instead of heading back, Harrie takes a seat on the grass as closely as she can to the protective barrier. Hermione mirrors her.
After a while of staring out at the landscape, a sheepish look crosses Harrie's face. "This wasn't really about dragons."
Hermione passes her a sandwich she'd packed at Ron's suggestion. “I thought so.”
“You’re so smart, Hermione,” Harrie says in that tone that leaves Hermione with no other option but to lightly push her. It would serve her right to fall into some dragon dung. Laughing, Harrie adds, “You are! Smartest person I know. Smartest person on earth. Absolutely no competition.”
“If I’m so smart, why am I here?”
"It's been seven years and I've never been able to figure it out." Harrie bites into her sandwich, grinning as she chews. "Mm, chicken and mustard. My favorite."
As though Hermione could have done any differently. Not when Harrie looked so down last night, all wild-haired and her voice tight after her nightmare, talking about dragons. If Hermione can do something for her, then she will. "What's this about, then?"
Harrie shrugs. She looks away for a moment, her eyes searching the skyline. There is a pair of dragons flying many kilometers away, just barely visible through the foggy sky. "Do you ever wonder what you're going to do with your life?"
"All the time."
"I never have." Harrie says it quickly, like it's a secret instead of a well-known fact. Harrie Potter, running into danger without the scrap of a plan. It's not that Harrie's dumb, although Hermione has always hoped that her best friend would study more, it's that she's never given much weight to sitting around and thinking. "After Sirius died, I didn't dare think about more than the day to day and killing Voldemort. I couldn't bear it. Whenever I thought of the future, I thought of all the people who could still die. You, Ron, the Weasleys, Remus, the Order, even people I barely knew. And now you're not going to die—or at least you better not—and I have no idea what I'm doing."
"I should have expected something like this," Hermione says more to herself than to Harrie.
Harrie rolls her eyes. "It's that common of an issue, is it?"
"Yes," Hermione replies, dryly. "Yes, it is. Congratulations. You've joined the young adult club. Now that Voldemort is gone, you can start worrying about NEWTs, job prospects, what you're going to do with the next fifty years, rent, relationships—"
"Please stop, I don't need any more nightmares."
"—taxes."
"I'm the Girl-Who-Lived," Harrie whines, ducking her head to hide her smile. "I should be exempt."
"Nonsense. I'm looking forward to it. It's a marker of adulthood."
"You're terrifying." Harrie finishes off her sandwich and looks longingly at the wrapper. "Have you been thinking about that stuff all this time?"
Hermione shrugs. "I like planning things. It keeps me calm and motivated. I've thought about the end of the war a million times. We defeat Voldemort—check, thank you, Harrie—then I head to Australia to restore my parents' memories, then I return to Hogwarts to graduate and take my NEWTs. Or self-study if the school doesn't reopen, but I'd like to formally graduate. It's an important distinction. I'll be hired at the ministry, where I'll do whatever it takes to reform the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and creature law." Her cheeks heating, she adds, "I want to be minister of magic. Don't laugh."
"Come on, you already have my vote."
"Good. And then... I don't know. I have my five and ten year plans set, but twenty and fifty are still in progress." Hermione bites her tongue on the first thing that comes to mind and rephrases it as a question. "Do you plan to return to Hogwarts?"
Harrie huffs at her as though she knows just how hard it was for Hermione not to demand that she go. "I love Hogwarts, but I've never liked schoolwork. You know that. Kingsley has already offered me a place in the auror program when it starts up again. NEWTs are being waived for anyone who couldn't take theirs due to the war. All we have to do is pass their tests."
"I'll have to go back to Hogwarts without my two best friends," Hermione grumbles. "Since I doubt Ron has any interest in going back, either."
Harrie doesn't deny it. Instead, she offers, "I'll write. I've never had anyone to write to regularly. It'll be fun. No more bland messages because we're worried about them being intercepted or Dumbledore wants us to keep secrets. And I can visit you on Hogsmeade weekends."
"You won't be too busy with your training?"
"I'm never too busy for you."
And there Hermione's cheeks go again. For entirely different reasons. Harrie looks so sincere, so perfect with the wind running through her short hair and the chain of a necklace peeking out from around her neck. There's a stylized golden snitch hanging on it, caught somewhere between the outer layer of robes and the shirt Harrie's wearing underneath. Hermione bought it for her as a Christmas present three years ago. Heart thumping uncomfortably, Hermione asks, "And where will we go in Hogsmeade?"
It's an innocent question.
Or rather, it's not, but it can be if Harrie wants it to be.
"I don't want to go to Madam Puddifoot's again," Harrie blurts out, eye wide with what Hermione assumes to be the memory of her terrible date with Cho. With a tiny, hopeful smile, Harrie says, "But there are other places in Hogsmeade. Nicer than the Three Broomsticks. We could go around and test them. As a date."
"I thought you swore off dating." Hermione realizes that sometime during their conversation, they've gotten closer and closer. Harrie's eyes are so green from this proximity.
Harrie shakes her head. "Not from you. It took me a while to realize it, that's all. I've wanted to kiss you forever."
"Me, too," Hermione says aloud for the first time. And she does just that.
Overhead, a dragon flies by. Neither of them notice.