Everyone seems to notice when Ron and Hermione offer to clean up together, but no one – apart from George, who watches them leave with a thoughtful frown on his face – reacts as if it's abnormal. Still, she feels like a weight leaves her shoulders when they enter the small kitchen with the last of the plates and cutlery. The Weasleys have all been a little too nonchalant about her presence there, acting, for the most part, as if she never even stopped going over in the first place. And, while she appreciates that they're trying to make it easy for them, it unsettles her. She doesn't want things to be forced, but she also doesn't want it to just go back to the way things were. She wants…
The problem, she thinks, is that their pretending things are normal between us is making the fact that things are strained even more apparent.
After all, 'normal' doesn't include spending a whole afternoon brainstorming potential conversation starters for a casual chat with the person who has been your best friend since you were eleven. Every time she uses one of them, however natural it might seem to outsiders and even to him, it brings her back to the problem at hand.
They no longer know how to talk to one another.
"I'm always amazed at what a good cook your mum is," she says, falling back on another of those pre-planned comments as she scrapes scraps into the compost container. "I would never have the patience for it."
"I remember." After a moment, he adds hurriedly, as if to relieve any slight that might have caused, "Charlie's the only one of us kids who does. I mean, we all can, but he's the only one who gets into it. And even that's just been since he left for Romania."
Excitement rushes through her at the thought, and she sets the final plate aside as she turns to face him. "Ooh! Does he cook Romanian food? What's that like? You know, despite knowing your family for a decade, I don't actually know what food is traditional there. Or anything about Romania, really. What – "
He cuts her off with a shaky laugh. "Mostly, yeah. It drives Mum bonkers that he can't cook English staples, but she loves that he knows recipes she doesn't. I overheard her telling Dad that she's proud he learned it all himself. And there are lots of sour soups and vegetables, from what I can gather."
"I'll have to ask him for some soup recipes, then. Teddy tends to be a bit more prone to colds and tummy bugs around the full moon, but he hates all of the soups we know how to make, so it might be worth a shot."
"I can ask him in my next letter if you want."
"That would be fantastic," she gushes.
"It's nothing," he says, before wincing with an adorable sheepishness that takes her back to first year. With an awkward laugh, he says, "Better get on actually cleaning this up, eh?" and flicks his wand to cast the spell.
"The kids are growing up so fast," she comments as she watches the dishes start to clean themselves obligingly. "I still can't believe how big Teddy has grown."
"It's scary," he agrees. "Soon they'll both be heading off to Hogwarts."
That's still several years off, but she completely understands where he's coming from. Under Andromeda's tutelage, Teddy has started getting a hang of containing his magic. Every now and again, he will start letting off sparks in anger before reining it in again. Seeing him slowly develop control of his magic, even on such a minor scale, casts images through her mind of what it might be like when he's a student. Teddy, dressed up in school robes, standing on Platform 9 ¾ for the first time. Teddy, beaming proudly, excited for the year to come. Teddy, sitting on a stool with the Sorting Hat atop his head and his future home before him. "Bill and Fleur are leaning away from Beauxbatons, then?"
"Yeah." He pauses and, after quickly examining the plates, slowly swirls his wand in the circular motion of the Drying Charm. Ostensibly, he's taking the time to concentrate on getting the spell right, but she suspects he's also trying to work out what to say. Things seem more natural now that they're back in a familiar environment and can talk, or not talk, without it being a huge deal, but it still feels far from smooth. "She prefers the way they run things there, but they want their kids to go to the same school as Teddy and any future cousins rather than going off to France alone."
"That makes sense. It would be good for her to have family at school with her."
His lips spread into a rare smile. "Let's just hope they don't come across any trolls or basilisks there."
A startled laugh forces its way out of her mouth. "I'm not sure about trolls, but the chance of another basilisk finding its way there is slim. We might still have to warn them to avoid haunted bathrooms with strangely decorated sinks, though."
"That's probably for the best, yeah." Shaking his head, he adds, "And out of the way corridors. And the forest. And Filch. And DADA professors."
"So everything, really. We should just tell them to keep their heads down and only do what they absolutely have to do to pass each subject. To do everything we didn't do, basically."
"We're allowed to be hypocrites when it's for their own safety," he declares, before snorting. "McGonagall would never admit it, but she'd be so disappointed if they toed the line all the time. She says she likes people to follow the rules, but she secretly loves it when people get away with things for good reasons."
Unlike the day before, the silence that rises up between them is comfortable and easy. After spending so many months avoiding one another like one of Hagrid's 'pets', it feels like the fractures and fissures between them are slowly starting to knit back together again. "They'll have the time of their lives there," she says, her voice choked with a sudden flare of nostalgia. "I know I did."
For the first time in a while, he actually seems to be looking straight at her, and his expression is unexpectedly open. "I miss you, Hermione. I miss my best friend."
"Me too," she admits as, fighting down tears of relief, she steps towards him and into his embrace. It's so different, yet so much better, than the last time they hugged. It has lost all hints of romance and passion, but it has also shucked the coils of the tension that was wrapping around them for so long. The bitterness and the hurt has fallen away. All that remains is the comfort and friendship that she has missed for so long. "I miss you too."