Harry sighed as he stepped out of the Floo into his living room. Robards had been on his case more than ever after the balls-up with the Minister's donors at the Summer Ball. At least before Ron quit, the Head Auror had split his attention between the two youngest recruits, but now he had all the time in the world to pick his way through every bit of paperwork filed by the Boy Who Failed To Use Spellcheck Charms, as Harry was now referred to whenever his boss was annoyed with him, which is to say whenever he was within earshot. Of course, he couldn't exactly blame Ron for quitting. His redheaded friend had been struggling with the workload since the beginning, having been fast-tracked past the traditional training program on account of their 'extensive field training', but their experience in hunting down dark artefacts and camping in the woods translated surprisingly poorly to writing reports on the mad old squib who'd lost her kneazle for the twelfth time that month. Really, it was a wonder that Ron had made it as far as he did, and in no small part a testament to Hermione's abilities that she'd managed to help him file his documents on time even as she herself rose through the ranks of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Harry didn't know the exact reason his two oldest friends had finally broken up, and he'd made it clear to both of them that until they could talk to each other with civility he didn't want to, but given how Hermione had taken to muttering about 'medieval values' whenever the subject of a certain ginger came up, and said redhead's recently renewed obsession with salaries, he didn't exactly need two years of Auror training to guess at the problem. Of course, even if George hadn't offered his youngest brother a better paying job, at the rate he'd been going since the breakup Harry expected Ron would have been fired within a few weeks without Hermione's help.

His expression brightened at the thought of the bushy-haired witch he would soon be meeting for lunch. The pair had gotten used to eating together after Ron had left them during the search for the Horcruxes, and though Harry had joined the two of them for meals a few times a week while they'd been dating, it just hadn't been the same. As much as he wanted to forget those months of Voldemort's reign, there had certainly been some glimmers of light in the tempest. Harry supposed that yuletide spent alone with each other in the rickety old tent had forged a connection between Hermione and himself on par with their fight with the troll in first year, and when Hermione had casually suggested grabbing a few meals together for nostalgia's sake, he'd happily jumped at the idea. They had a tacit understanding that mentioning anything to Ron would be a bad idea. He may have matured since Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire, but neither believed he had changed that much, and they knew he'd see anything short of a total lack of contact between the two as a betrayal on Harry's part. It was quite simply easier not to tell him than to risk losing one or maybe even two of the people Harry was closest to in the world.

The ringing of the oven timer broke Harry out of his thoughts. He'd set it to go off 20 minutes before Hermione was due to arrive, and therefore 10 minutes before she'd turn up early as usual. He made his way over to the kitchen, where Kreacher was busy chopping vegetables, having vehemently refused Harry's suggestion of a few hours off. His one concession had been to allow his master to handle the roast, and even that had taken hours of negotiation with the house elf during which Harry had argued him down to a 5% pay cut, in place of the 50% Kreacher had wanted to have taken. The whole thing was mostly a question of principles anyway, as Harry knew his elf had most likely spent the last few hours checking in on the oven every few minutes, and he had a feeling Kreacher would return several galleons he found 'lying about' to one of the vaults as soon as he thought his Master wouldn't notice.

The doorbell rang out in two short bursts, then a slight pause before the further, slightly longer tone which rounded off Hermione's familiar tune. Harry turned to leave the kitchen, but before he could take a step there was a quiet crack of elven disapparition as Kreacher left to let Hermione in himself. By the time he made it to the atrium, the bushy-haired witch was already hanging up her cloak, ignoring the elf's futile attempts to complete the simple task himself. She did, however, acquiesce when he reached for the bottle of wine she was carrying, although Harry caught a golden glint flash between her fingers as she pressed the elegant glass into the elf's hands. Kreacher had clearly noticed the coin too, the intonations of his mutterings reminiscent of how he'd behaved when they'd first arrived at Grimmauld Place as he directed their guest towards the dining room. If Harry hadn't been painfully familiar with Hermione's constant good-natured sparring with his servant, he probably would have missed the subtle crack or the slight sagging of Hermione's coat pocket as the elf Switched the Galleon in his spindly fingers with a tiny piece of lint in her purse. Hermione, for her part, didn't outwardly react, but Harry knew from experience she was far too observant not to have noticed, and was probably already formulating a new plan to grant the elf some other unwelcome kindness.

Hermione was so invested in her scheming that she didn't even seem to notice Harry until she'd made it halfway down the hall, at which point her face suddenly lit up as she bound forwards and wrapped her arms tightly around him in an embrace which could well have put Mrs Weasley's hugs to shame. He chuckled and spun her around until they were both slightly dizzy.

"Stop, stop!" she cried, beating her fists playfully against his back, "put me down, you lug!"

Ignoring the faux protests, Harry carried her into the dining hall, depositing Hermione unceremoniously in a chair with a wordless cushioning charm and a muffled groan. Before she could get her bearings, he had strode to his own place.

"By the way, remember how Dumbledore used to raise his hands and make the food appear at the feasts?" he asked with a small smile, as he placed his wand in his pocket with an exaggerated motion.

"Yes, why?"

Harry's smile grew.

"Well –" He winked conspiratorially at her and raised his arms from his side. There was a small crack and the roast appeared on the table between them, followed closely by a few bowls of vegetables and a silver gravy boat, which appeared slightly too high and landed with a clatter, spinning around on its base slightly before coming to a rest at the edge of the table, a thick droplet of gravy hanging precariously from its spout.

"Damn, I thought we'd got it all set up right this time."

Harry had only ever seen Hermione speechless a few times in his life, and relished the moment as she opened and closed her mouth wordlessly for a few seconds.

"How did you do that? I saw you put your wand away. I know you can do a bit of wandless magic, but according to Hicke's Second Law a mass switching spell like that would need be so difficult most people would struggle to cast it with a wand. Even you're not that powerful."

"I'm afraid that's an Auror secret. Wouldn't want our culinary tricks falling into the wrong hands now, would we?"

Hermione pursed her lips.

"Don't give me that, Auror Potter, you know as well as I do that we're privy to all official secrets, and your department haven't filed anything new with the Unspeakables for weeks."

"If there were secrets you didn't know about, how would you know you don't know them?" Harry asked with a grin. The glare he received was so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he had a sudden flashback to his first year at Hogwarts, when he and Ron had turned up late to Transfiguration. "Er – on second thoughts I guess I can let you in on the trick. I may have cheated a little."

"You cheated? How can you cheat magic?"

"Well, I let Kreacher do it." The elf in question bowed low and vanished with a pop before the scary witch could start off on another one of her strange rants about elven rights. "It was his idea, actually. There's a replica of this table in the kitchen and he mentioned how he used to fill it and switch the food over whenever Sirius's parents had guests around." He gave her a grin. "It seemed like he missed it, so we decided to play a little joke on you in the process. Anyway, Kreacher insisted on putting a lot of work into all this, so we'd better make a start before it gets cold or he'll never let it go."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but was suddenly struck with the memory of the ancient elf's disappointment when they'd had to abandon Grimmauld Place during the hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes. Not wanting to hurt Kreacher's feelings if she could help it, she picked up her cutlery and took a thick slice of the roast beef from the serving platter in front of her. They ate in silence for a few minutes, savouring the veritable feast before them until Harry finally voiced their shared feelings.

"I missed this. It's been too long."

"Yes, it has been a while, hasn't it?" Hermione agreed, "I don't think we've eaten together since before Ron and I-" she trailed off at the thought of the man who was now her ex, and remained Harry's best male friend.

"Yeah, but even then it just wasn't the same with Ron here. He's my best mate, but you really can't sit down for a quiet meal with the guy."

As if to prove his point, they fell into a companionable silence as they ate their fill. Even after they'd both taken second helpings, they'd barely made a dent in the mounds of food Kreacher had prepared in a storm of excitement at the thought of guests. Across the table, Harry could see Hermione struggling between letting the food go to waste or eating past the point of comfort. He left her to her quandary for a few moments, as her spoon hovered back and forth over a bowl of browned butter roasted garlic peas, before speaking with a casual air.

"You know, it's lucky Kreacher knows a good stasis charm. He always cooks so much, the leftovers can last us for weeks sometimes."

The proclamation was met with a sigh of relief from Hermione.

"You can be evil sometimes, you know that?"

"If I'm so bad, I guess you won't be wanting any of this trifle I made. It's a pity, really, I got the recipe from Mrs Weasley specially and left the sponge to soak for weeks, but there's always the chance I poisoned it since I know it's your favourite." He gave her a malicious grin as the trays vanished, to be replaced by a thick English trifle in an opulent glass bowl.

"I think it's worth the risk." She grabbed her wand and scooped a generous portion into her bowl.

The dessert was finished off much faster than the roast, and the conjured dishes were soon Vanished away, leaving the table empty aside from a few napkins and wine glasses, and for some reason the refilling gravy boat. Looking back towards the witch in front of him, Harry noticed a small patch of whipped cream on her left cheek, and absentmindedly leaned over to clean it up.

"You've missed a bit," he murmured, pushing back a few curly locks to scoop the offending bit of dairy from her face, and wiping the spot with the edge of his napkin. Satisfied with his handiwork, Harry licked his finger clean with a wink. "There we go, all better now." He straightened back into his seat, wincing as a sharp pain flared through his right shoulder. He tried to pass it off as a simple twitch, but Hermione's eagle eyes were more than able to catch his moment of weakness.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine." He received another glare for his efforts.

"Don't give me that, we've known each other for years, you don't think I can't tell when you're hurting?"

Harry gave a resigned sigh.

"I took a bad curse to the side in a raid yesterday." At Hermione's look of horror, he hurriedly elaborated. "Nothing lethal, obviously, the healers fixed me up in about five minutes. I'm just stuck on desk duty for the rest of the week, and I'm not meant to do any strenuous activity for a few days." Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"Strenuous like spinning me around, or perhaps stretching all the way across the table?"

"Yeah, like that." He grinned sheepishly. "It'll be fine, they'll probably just tell me to do some stretches or something." He waved his arm around to demonstrate, but was betrayed by a twinge in his arm. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Lie down, Harry." She gestured to the sofa.

"Huh?"

"Lie there on your stomach." He considered protesting, but the firmness of her tone suggested that this might be one of those times where he should just do what he was told. He took a sharp breath as his shirt was vanished, and tried to turn his head to complain but was pushed back down. "It's just a temporary charm, I needed to be able to see what I was doing. Now stay still." She muttered an incantation and something cold and wet appeared on Harry's shoulder. He shivered slightly from the chill, before he gasped as a soft hand pushed into his aching shoulder.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Relax, Harry, it's just a deep tissue massage. According to Advanced Methods in Curse Healing, they can aid recovery from spell injuries and reduce the risk of permanent scarring by loosening the affected tissue and redistributing residual magic." As she spoke, she pressed her fingers into his flesh, bringing her magic to the surface as she rubbed between his well-defined muscles, working each of the knots out in turn. It only took a few minutes of concerted pressure before Harry melted into the cushions of the sofa, groaning in bliss.

"You know I love you, Hermione?" he whispered between ragged breaths.

"Of course I do, Harry. I've had a pretty good idea for ages, but I knew for sure since fourth year. I'll have to thank Ginny for finally getting the concept into your thick skull, though." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before standing up fully. "I've got to get going, but give her my love and a kiss from me when you see her later, will you?"

Harry smiled contentedly up at her as she made her way out.

"I'm so glad I've got a sister like you."