Prefects. Hermione glanced down the long length of the galley table and smiled. Ron. The look he was wearing, a sweetness there, vulnerability, pride and something more, she narrowed her eyes a tiny bit and sucked on her lower lip, was it perhaps a sense of surprised righteousness then? This belonged to him, entirely, without anyone else's say-so or assistance or overshadowing presence, he had achieved this through the simple force of his personality. Prefect material, someone other than his mum thought he qualified, was deserving. She nodded a small nod in agreement with her thoughts. He caught this movement and smiled broadly at her.
Harry had just made another toast and she couldn't help but wince a bit at this brazen show of overcompensation. But that was okay, too, she felt her own pinching guilt about her assumption earlier that afternoon regarding Ron's badge and suddenly she stood, raised her own glass of butterbeer and said, "To Ron."
He smiled thankfully.
Sirius stood on the opposite side of the table, "To Ron," he answered loudly.
Molly turned wet, shining eyes on both of them and beamed. Hermione glanced over at Sirius and he was watching her, he nodded and she shivered, knowing they were both thinking the same thing. Molly had needed this spot of good luck, a vicarious sort of pride filling out the drawn and tired lines in her face. Hermione felt another quick pinch of guilt but then got caught up in the movement as the crowd shifted out of the kitchen and into the Great Room.
Suddenly, shoulder to shoulder with Sirius, he grabbed her fingers and squeezed and then threw an arm around Harry and jostled himself between them both.
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She had gathered up empty butterbeer mugs and an errant dessert plate and ducked back into the kitchen. Setting everything quietly into the basin and turning the water on, she closed her eyes and cleared her throat softly, she just couldn't seem to swallow the heavy lump of emotion lodged there. She ran her hands beneath the warm faucet spray, rubbing her fingers, massaging the balls of her thumbs down into her palms.
"Experience says that tends to work better with soap," Sirius's voice was quiet and she turned her head to find him leaning against the counter top beside the sink, smiling at her.
She smirked. "I thought I might be doing something wrong."
He laughed, a susurration that trickled off the ends of her fingers like the water drops, she closed her fingers into her palm, and let out a ragged breath. He winked and bent his head towards her in a sympathy of longing, but pointedly looked back over his shoulder and out the doorway, into the other room with its happy voices.
She reached down into the sink and stoppered the drain and began filling the basin with a soapy water charm. "Have you had your fill of cleaning or would you like to help me with the washing up?"
"Dare I mention the house-elf's name?" he said jokingly and she shot him a withering look. He retrieved a dishtowel and waited for the first dish.
They worked together in a companionable silence for a long moment. Sirius spoke, "Ron is an amazing person, really amazing. It must be hard at times for him, and you, to carry on side by side with Harry. The three of you are such good mates. It's brilliant to see it. Gives the rest of us hope, you know."
"Hope? In what way?"
"In the love conquers all way, I think."
"If that's all it requires, then we should be straight in. I love them both." She looked at him quickly, "As mates."
He nodded. "These friendships, relationships, the three of you, well that all of you, are building now, will affect you forever. Can shape your life if you let it. In a good way. Sometimes in a bad way, too, I guess."
"I think that is a true thing. I value them. The boys. I hope we get on when we're grown and out of Hogwarts," she hesitated, "when all this is done and over."
He nodded and tossed the dishtowel onto the table. "Look at James and Lily. Ended up married with a child. Lupin and I are like an old married couple now."
"Is that right?" she grinned at him and he shouldered her and she pushed back.
"They're great boys, they're going to be amazing men. Harry needs you both, that's an obvious thing to everyone, to all of us. And I know that both of you are there for him." He took a deep breath, "But, Ron needs you specifically in ways that Harry doesn't."
She looked at his face, at his mouth that was saying what she didn't want him to be saying, she looked at his broad shoulders, a peek of an earlobe through his hair. She looked over his shoulder at the firelight flickering through the doorway to the other room, still resonating with laughter and tired voices.
"Hermione?"
She nodded. "What do you want me to do with that, Sirius?"
He held her gaze and shook his head, "I'm not entirely sure."
The day was done, the evening over, morning already calling from the other side of the night with a hurried tone and this time tomorrow she would be seated in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and all this would fall away and she knew she would have to let it go.
"Hold onto it?" he asked with a tone she couldn't recognize. "Keep it in mind."
She nodded and brushed past him and rejoined the others.
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It was such a simple…gesture. Something that would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. A small movement, really. Yet solid and full of grace and masculine strength. From Harry's back, up over his shoulders and then cupping his head, long-fingered, square-blunted fingered hand just there. And Hermione felt something inside her chest shift sideways and then that i something /i falling down into her…yes, into her womb. She felt that. Felt it trill through her lungs as she stood in the doorway and watched Sirius hug Harry goodbye, watched the heavy embrace the older man pulled him into, up into his broad chest. She had blinked then strained her eyes open; she wanted it to be her.
And at the train station, Padfoot swung his beautifully sculpted head into her thigh and she quickly, quickly, squatted down beside him and pulled him against her and whispered incoherently into his ear. And just as quickly, straightened and ran for the train, rubbing hard at her face, pulling her hair over her eyes. She did not look back.