After Harry enjoyed a small breakfast of slightly burnt toast and jam, he went upstairs and put on his shoes. Hermione emerged from her room, dressed herself now, and announced that she was joining him. Harry laughed before he realized she was serious.

"Hermione, you were aghast when you told me how far the park is, are you sure you want to walk with me?" He looked her over. "Do you even have the right shoes?"

Hermione looked down at her attire. "Is this not right?"

Harry chuckled. She was wearing her school flats and a skirt. He shook his head, and turned her back towards her room, leading her with hands firmly set on her shoulders. She walked, with slumped shoulders, towards her closet. Harry stopped her in front of the set of doors and pulled them open to reveal her general Muggle wardrobe. He shifted some of the clothes on their hangers.

"Hermione, a two mile walk, plus whatever we do at the park-"

"I thought I'd read."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course. Anyway, you have to wear trousers, at the least. And proper tennis shoes."

Hermione brightened and pushed past him to dig in the bottom of her closet. She came up with a pair of sneakers that looked as if they'd never touched her feet. They were pristinely white with vibrant blue laces. She grinned, holding them out as if she were presenting an award.

"Like these!"

Harry smiled. "They'll work. Though, you'll want to wear thick socks if they aren't broken in, to prevent blisters. And you should probably change your shirt to something you can really move in."

Hermione's face fell as she turned to her closet. "All I have are button-ups. They're casual, mostly, but…"

Harry reached into the closet and withdrew a pair of jeans and a powder blue button-down that would hang off of her curves nicely. He held them out and she looked at him dubiously. Harry rolled his eyes again in exasperation.

"You'll look great, and the shirt matches your shoes," He assured her.

Hermione set her shoes down on the reading chair near her dresser and took the clothes, looking the shirt over. "I don't think I've ever worn this one. I rarely wear blue."

Harry shrugged. "Put it on. If you don't like it, you can pick something else. Just make sure it's comfortable."

Hermione nodded. "Okay, Harry. I'll be out in a minute."

Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Okay, Hermione."

He walked out of the room as Hermione set the clothes out on her large, rumpled bed. The door shut behind him, and he leaned against the wall across from the closed door. It was so easy to think of Ron, when he and Hermione were bonding like this. If they'd had this crisis of wardrobe with the redhead around, Ron would have been pushing her to wear anything, as long as it got them out the quickest. Harry felt conflicted about this knowledge. Part of him was glad to be able to befriend Hermione on this level, but a part of him missed Ron's cloying 'must-go' attitude. After so many years of dealing with it, it was like his life had a groove missing. Approximately a third, in fact.

Harry looked up when Hermione's bedroom door opened. She stepped out apprehensively and twirled. Harry grinned.

"You look great," He told her. She smiled shyly. "I'm glad you went with the blue, it brings out the specks of gold in your eyes."

Hermione blushed. "Thanks, Harry. You really have impeccable taste. Why didn't I ever notice that about you?"

Harry shrugged and linked their arms as he led his friend toward the stairs. "A certain someone always got in the way, I suppose," He said. "He would never have given us time to properly address your, well…dress. Anyway, the only reason I know blue looks good on you is because of that dress you wore to the Yule Ball."

"Oh, that," Hermione giggled. "My mum picked that out. I tried on a half-dozen dresses before she picked that one."

Harry grinned, though he no longer felt like doing so. "Well, then it's your mother who really has the impeccable taste."

"You'll see it yourself soon," Hermione warned. "I saw the way she eyed your outfit this morning. My mother loves to shop, and I suspect she'll want to take you shopping tomorrow, when they're off work."

Harry frowned. "Hermione, that's not- I wouldn't feel comfortable…"

"Don't do that, Harry," Hermione told him primly. She took a key off the hook in the front hall and locked the door behind them when they stepped out into the overcast sunlight. "You have no choice. It would be rude not to accept, if Mum does decide to take you shopping. It's not like it's charity or anything, it's just what my mum does. The last friend I brought home was in grade school, before I got my Hogwarts letter, and Mum took us out for ice cream once. We wound up both getting two new outfits, because Mum saw them in the window at one of the stores we passed. Mum loves to play dress-up, and I imagine you'll be her new favorite doll."

"I really can't refuse?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Hermione shook her head as they turned the corner and started the long walk to the park. "You really can't. I suppose it isn't your fault, having not gotten much from your relatives, but when someone offers something like that, it's rude not to accept. There are exceptions, as there are to every rule, but generally it's best just to say thank you. Especially with my parents, who love to give freely. It's just their way of being kind. They have so much, it gives them a sense of accomplishment to give it away to people they think deserve it."

Harry shook his head in confusion. "I have so much to learn about social circles."

"Well, then perhaps its best that Ron isn't here, because he has no idea how to act around anyone of standing. Malfoy would be of more use than that redheaded twat," Hermione spat angrily.

Harry nodded with a sigh. "I guess that's true. Doesn't make me feel his absence any less, though. He always made everything so simple. Without him, the world is so…so complicated, and grey."

Hermione seemed to relax her poised shoulders as Harry slumped into a proper sulk.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought him up," She murmured apologetically.

"No, it's okay, Hermione," Harry demurred gently. "He was your friend, too, and you're understandably angry with him. And you are right; he doesn't know anything about how to behave around people outside of his family. Heck, even the twins think he's an embarrassment, and they love standing out. This thing about not liking homosexuals is just the newest in a long line of things that makes him out to be unfit for socializing. And, though it's killing me, unfit to be my friend."

"That's good, Harry."

The Wizarding Savior looked at his friend uncertainly.

"You're coming to accept that this isn't your fault," Hermione explained. "Ron's an idiot to think he's anything without your friendship. This isn't the first time he's abandoned you, but, and you might hate me for saying so, I really hope it'll be the last. He doesn't deserve your kindness, or your forgiveness."

Harry scowled. "Hermione, that's not fair! Just because he's being stupid now doesn't mean he won't come around eventually."

"It's not a matter of whether or not he'll come around, Harry," Hermione argued. "He's a bad friend, even if he does accept who you are and everything that comes with it. Practically every year since we met him he's been bad news! He thinks he's above us, just because he was raised in the Wizarding World, and he treats our friendship like it's disposable!"

Harry scowled and didn't answer. He refused to believe there was no hope for his friendship with Ron. He couldn't change who he was, or how he felt about other men, but that didn't mean Ron couldn't come around eventually. They'd been friends for so long, in spite of the hiccups along the way, that it didn't make sense to leave Ron behind him. They walked the rest of the way to the park in silence. When they reached the padded equipment area, Hermione sat heavily on a nearby bench.

"I can't believe we walked so far just for a park," She grumbled, setting her book down as she massaged one of her feet through her shoe.

Harry looked around them. There were plenty of adults, and even some teens around their age, but he didn't see any kids. Even on the metal equipment the ages ranged from teen to elderly. He frowned.

"Where are all the kids?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she picked up her book. "Oh, Harry, this isn't that sort of park. The kids play equipment is somewhere down that way." She gestured past the equipment they were near, and Harry looked. He glimpsed bright colors through the intermingled trees, across the large span of grass. "This park is mostly for people who want to stay in shape, sort of like a free gym. The path winds all the way around along the edge, and the equipment here is for exercise, not playing on. I think my dad said the path is two kilometers, all told. He runs it once a month just to prove to himself that he still can."

Harry shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he went over to a large board covered in a dusty film of plastic. The thick plastic front was too dirty to see the lettering, but the pictures were clearly of how to use the equipment in the area, showing stick-like figures performing action stills, like they'd been caught mid-workout. With a shrug, Harry walked over to a low hanging bar and one that was slightly taller. Oliver had always had him practice upper body workouts, so he was honed to catch the snitch, but he wasn't sure he could still do half the things he'd done back then. Since becoming captain of the Quidditch team, his training had been focused on broom maneuvers.

Deciding to test himself, the Gryffindor pulled his hands out of his pockets and leapt up to grab the taller bar, which sat a good foot above his head. With a bit of a struggle, he managed to pull himself up and touch his chin to the warm metal. He dropped back to the ground with a sigh. He definitely needed to get back into shape. A quick glance around said no one would notice if he took his shirt off. The baggy material had been more of a hindrance than he ever could have guessed. He walked back over to his friend and pulled the tee over his head.

"Will you watch this for me?"

Hermione looked up and took the shirt. "I doubt anyone is going to take it, but sure." She set it down on the bench beside her and returned to her book. "Don't hurt yourself, Harry. That walk is murder, and there's no way I'd be able to carry you all the way back to my house if you pull a hamstring or something."

Harry nodded, turning back to the gym equipment with determination. "You bet, Hermione." He saw the piece of equipment he was looking for just as an elderly gentleman in a white muscle shirt got off, and he walked over to the intricate design. It mimicked rowing, and would do to help him strengthen his arms.