Her hair was shorter, it bobbed around her face and shoulders, a sea of Carmel and honey hues, of aged pine and chocolate, of fine aged whisky and roasted hazelnuts. A strand flickered, stirred by the slight wispy breath she let out, causing a tsunami of colour to crash into the delicate slope of her nose.
Her mouth hung open ever so slightly, her lips pursed in anticipation of saying words that would never reach his ears, he could see the slight white of her teeth hidden behind, forever with those words.
Slight shadows danced delicately down her tan face, when she blinked, her eyelashes entwined in a dance. Her pupils grew when he met her eyes, the dark rim of her iris encaged the dancing flames of auburn that had glassed over for a second, concealing the soul beneath.
Neville tore his eyes away from her, instead fixing his eyes on a bowl of hard boiled sweets, wrapped in sheets of gold, silver, bronze, violet, pink, blue, orange…
"Neville.." she breathed again.
He looked up, she had turned to face him, her right hand had lifted slightly, in an attempt to grasp something that wasn't there, and it shook ever so slightly, like a trembling leaf.
He took a small step towards her.
And another.
And then a slightly bigger one.
Before he could lift his foot to walk a third Hermione had stumbled into his arms, her head resting in the crook of his neck and her hands thrown around his neck. She was considerably shorter and her tip-toes were strained so she could reach him.
One of his hands closed around her waist and the other travelled instinctively to the back of her hair.
Falling into old routines.
She pulled back to look at him, tears brimming in her eyes, before she stepped back, her eyes had a shut off quality, like someone had tamed the fire that lurked there and Neville's heart learched into his stomach.
He knew what was coming.