"Ron!" called Hermione, bursting through the swinging door to the kitchen. He was sitting jauntily on one of the rickety kitchen tables, fork in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.

"Hermione!" he laughed, the fork clattering onto his breakfast burrito. Standing up with a flourish, the pair embraced. Mrs. Weasley looked at the pair with a fond expression. Seeing everyone together and happy was a rare treat for her now. Ron drew back, pulling out the chair beside him.

"And how have you been! Honestly, Mione, I haven't seen you for… what, two months?" he asked, as Hermione took her seat. A plate complete with eggs, a burrito, toast, and three sausages slid in front of her, followed (rather a little too quickly) by a fork, wielded inexpertly by Nevelle's shaky wand. She smiled and turned back to Ron as he sat in front of his own meal.

"It's been tough. But I'm so glad you're home! What's the occasion? Is everything going alright? Are Harry and the professors making due?" she sat upright, pulling her chair closer to the table. She suddenly felt very hungry, not at all like she'd been feeling the past few weeks. Ron shook his head, shoveling eggs into his mouth and chasing them with a swig from his earthenware mug. It clunked loudly onto the old wooden table.

"There's something you've got to understand, Mione… what we're doing isn't exactly…" he trailed off, eyes flickering between Hermione's own, searching. She looked down, catching a sausage with the tines of her fork. Luna looked up from a book, dull eyes watery from behind her glasses. Mrs. Weasley stopped washing her pot. The only sounds were the crackles and pops of the flames in the hearth and Ron's jaw as he chewed his food. Nevelle sniffed.

"Harry's fine. Dumbledore is wearing thin and he knows it, but the rest of the staff is doing-- Oh. Well, we… we did loose McGonnigal," he stammered, looking down. He played with a bit of toast, "Dementors. I wasn't right there, but Trelweny says she screamed an awful lot. I… well, that explains why I came home too, doesn't it?" He trailed off. Hermione nodded softly. She looked into the fire. It wasn't bright enough. She looked up, all around her. Things looked so old. Grey, cracked plaster; petrified wood beams above yawned gaps of split wood, colorless chasms of age and distress. The food was brown. Toast, sausage, limp tortilla, eggs. They were all browns. She cleared her throat.

"Oh. Well… it's lovely to have you home again, Ron! This place has been so gloomy lately, its wonderful to see a new face," Hermione said. She smiled. It almost hurt, it was so unnatural. The room exhaled its held breath with the action. Luna turned back to her book, and Nevelle tripped on a stool, stumbling slightly in his effort to help Mrs. Weasley with the leftovers. The pots were banging and clanking in a desperate race for the washbasin. Ron picked up his mug and took a swig before turning sideways to Hermione and smiling. She nodded back and turned to her food. Her eggs looked lovely. A faint yellow, even. She grinned to herself, sinking her fork into the delicate mass. Lifting it to her lips, it tasted like milky relief.

…

The door creaked awfully loud as she pushed it open. Someone was at the table she didn't recognize. He turned to face her.

"Ginny! Oh, gods, I'm so glad you're up! It's been all I could do not to stomp upstairs and wake you!" Ron cried, laughing. He enveloped his little sister in a giant hug. Ginny laughed and whacked him between his shoulders. He sprung up, grinning.

"So you're finally home. It's about time! I was getting worried that you'd never pay me back that galleon I lent you last summer," scolded Ginny, intercepting a plate on her way to the table. She sat down opposite her brother, adjusting her plate before looking up. Ron's eyes were bright and warm. Ginny smiled and poked around her burrito. Something moved to her left, and she glanced over.

It didn't matter how hard she tried. She blinked twice, breaking the contact she knew she couldn't stand. Hermione resolutely looked at her food. A twitch of her mouth betrayed her silent smile. Lavender crossed the wooden table to meet her, a pillowed hand reaching out to gently caress her jaw. Her eyes flickered despite herself, a glow rippling across her skin that she was loath to admit. No one would see.

Ginny cleared her throat. Her toes curled in her slippers, nervously clenching in twitches of awkwardness and insecurity. She looked up at Ron. He was smiling jovially at his little sister, sitting compactly across from him. Ginny smiled back.

"Well now, Ron. Let's hear it. What's the weather like in Britain? Any good shopping?" she joked, taking a bite of her toast. Ron chuckled, draining his mug and leaning back in his chair. Mrs. Weasley levitated his cleaned dishes to the sink, much to the joy of Nevelle, who immediately jumped up to help. Something about the room had warmed since Ginny and her lavender trail had entered. Luna even went so far as to turn her book right-side up. Hermione blinked twice. Vivid colors radiated around her. The grey, age-smoothed wood of the table now lay with an inviting toffee hue under her plate. She looked up at Ginny, slowly, her hair a curtain from behind which she peered. The red was so bright today, shockingly golden yet blonde and black all at the same time.

But it didn't matter. It was just hair, the same hair that she had seen on Ron since the day they met on Platform 9¾, their very first year of Hogwarts. Suddenly Hermione was struck with reality, a hard clang of a fork in the washbasin making her jerk up and straighten. How had she been so stupid? The sun was rising higher outside their enchanted kitchen window, sending an arc of light across the table. Ginny's fractal hair had been nothing but a reflection of glorious morning. Hermione almost laughed. The smile stole at the corners of her mouth, reflected in her shoulders as they relaxed and her jaw as the muscle smoothed under her skin. She lifted the last bite of sausage to her mouth and savored the flavor of fresh syrup on her tongue. Ron smiled beside her, and Ginny ate quickly across the table.

Ginny couldn't eat her food fast enough. Between talking with her brother and fitting the burrito in her mouth, she had little time to dwell on the girl that sat opposite her. It didn't matter anyway, Hermione always sat there. Her dull brown hair greeted the sunlight every morning, only to be lost in the candlelight of the upstairs study scarcely an hour later. Ginny was accustomed to watching her eat, a very calculated and measured method of parceling the flavors into succulent parades of culinary delight. Although she did not understand her ways, she certainly knew them. And, just as she was doing now, she always rose from her seat and carried her dish to the sink, as if magic was a foreign concept to the brilliant witch of Hogwarts. Ginny lowered her fork.

"Hermione, are you working upstairs today?" Ginny asked, casually taking a bite of toast and eyeing her with lackluster intent. Hermione took her seat again, crossing her legs under the table in thought. Ginny chewed loudly, the crunch of the toast obscured by the overwhelming sounds of alive-ness that flooded the kitchen that morning. Luna laughed as Nevelle and Mrs. Weasley shared a joke by the stove. Something sputtered and hissed in a large cast-iron cauldron on the fire, and a small dragon of purple smoke was being conducted around the room by Ron, leaning on the back legs of his chair. Somewhere above the dish rack, a trio of owls suddenly hooted their ambivalent indignation as the dragon whooshed by, barely clipping the roosting birds. The girls laughed as Pig fluttered to the window to ruffle in the bath of sunlight.

"Yeah. I'm going to try to make it through the next three volumes of Priori before lunch," replied Hermione, standing up and pushing her chair softly into the table. Ginny nodded. Hermione looked up to catch her gaze, an insignificant connection that was dropped as soon as it began. Ginny smiled indulgently, in a similar way one would indulge a small child. Ron sent Hermione skittering out of the room with his smoke-dragon. The door swung shut behind her, as she left the bubbling laughter and encompassing golden blanket to return to the blanket of dust and darkness that consumed her many hours. The teeming kitchen was left to its own devices.

s3xy-Lady: Don't you worry! It'll come. There is the issue of a plot to take care of first, though... ;)

Risifruttiii: Thanks... it'll pick up once there are more chapters, I hope.

RogueGirl: Amazing words, thank you very much! I'll definitely work on this more often. I'm in a sticky spot with some art comissions right now, though. Updates should get faster after testing is over.

-buckup