Insomnia

Harry knocked on Hermione's door, just as he had done every Saturday night for the last two years. He liked their little ritual, as it gave him proof that some things hadn't been destroyed by the war - he was always going to be friends with Hermione. Sirius had once remarked that it was a safety net for him, a way for both Hermione and himself to avoid romantic entanglements. Whenever a female colleague, blushing and stuttering, asked him to meet for dinner on Saturday night, he could gently refuse. Sirius had rebuked him, telling him to get on with his life.

Well. Harry's life was going just fine, thank you very much.

The door opened, revealing a Hermione dressed in her comfort clothes, a Weasley jumper and an old pair of Ron's pyjama bottoms. Her hair was messier than he'd seen it since Third Year, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She looked up at him, her face blotchy and her bottom lip quivering.

"Hi, Harry."

The surprise on his face was obvious. "Hermione...what's wrong?" He hugged her, concerned. "Have you had some bad news?"

She sighed and moved aside, letting him walk inside. He took off his outer robes and watched her as she shut the door.

"No. I've just had a bad day." Harry followed his friend as she padded into the loungeroom and sat on the couch next to her, giving her a hug. She sniffled and cuddled up to him.

"Harry, am I too old to be attractive anymore?"

Harry looked at her messy hair, her red eyes and shapeless clothes, and decided to take a more general approach to answering the question. "Of course not. You're beautiful." he chided her gently. "What's all this about, then?"

Hermione groaned. "Draco. He doesn't like me."

Harry sat up on the couch in shock. "Draco...Malfoy? He..." He narrowed his eyes. "What's going on here? Am I completely out of the loop again?"

"No, Harry." She reconsidered. "Well, yes. But it's not a very big loop. And it's new." She sighed and summoned a pot of tea from the kitchen, and poured them both a cup.

"I've been seeing quite a bit of him recently. We ran into each other in the Leaky Cauldron." She blushed, and Harry tactfully ignored the last bit. "And...we talked. A lot." She met his eyes steadily. "About the war, and Ron, and Lucius."

Harry let out a small whistle at this revelation. Hermione talking to anyone, let alone Malfoy about what had happened was...extraordinary. He shook his head.

"And...what happened?"

She sipped her tea, gazing mournfully at him. "Oh, Harry, it's such a mess. I just...we've been talking so much, and last night I went to his place for dinner, and..." She blushed, and it finally dawned on Harry.

"Oh. Oh! You and he...oh, wow, Hermione." Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them, a gesture that always meant he'd been taken by surprise. Hermione shook her head.

"No, silly. Not that." Another blush, deeper than the first crept over her face, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that she was actually considering what it might be like to...he made a face, as a very unwelcome picture of his friend and Draco Malfoy popped up into his head.

Hermione glared at him. "Stop it, Harry. He walked me home and..." she bit her lip, "kissed me, and then he ran off." A little sob escaped her throat, and Harry hugged her.

"So...you like him. Malfoy." This wasn't an easy concept to get his head around, and Harry looked as though he was definitely struggling with it.

Hermione stood up indignantly. "Don't start, Harry. I know what you're thinking. He's Draco Malfoy, and Ron always hated him, and if Ron knew he'd hate me forever, and..." She was cut off as Harry stood and held her very close to him.

"Shh, Hermione." He stroked her hair, whispering soothing things. "That's not it at all. I was just surprised, because I didn't think you and he were in touch." He stood back and locked eyes with her. "I'm not getting angry." A look of pain crossed his face. "Ron's dead, Hermione. He's been dead for more than three years. And you loved him." Hermione let out a small cry and he ignored it. "And he loved you."

Her voice was anguished."But -"

Harry cut her off, holding her still. "But nothing, Hermione. Ron loved you. And yes, he wasn't fond of Malf...Draco." The name tasted sounded unfamiliar, but he ignored it and stroked her hair lovingly. "But Ron would've rather seen you with Snape than to have you the way you are, all lonely and sad."

She pushed away from him, refusing to meet his eyes, and Harry suspected she was trying not to cry. He came up behind her and put one hand on her arm.

"It's okay, Hermione."

Her voice, when she replied, was distant. "He doesn't like me, anyway." Harry closed his eyes, and hugged her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Well, I can't answer that one. But he might, you know. I mean, if you're feeling this guilty about it, who says he isn't?" She turned to face him, looking hopeful. He continued, with a little grin."After all, if he's interested in you, it means he can't be in love with himself anymore." A mock-serious face. "And that was a love affair that should've lasted through the ages."

Hermione snorted in spite of herself. "He's not like that anymore." She smiled, suddenly and impishly. "Although he does have a very big mirror in his flat..."

"That's my girl." Harry kissed her on the forehead. "Now, where's my food, woman?"

Hermione's face was a mixture of righteous indignation and regret. "I'm not your cook...and anyway, I forgot. Sorry." She smiled wryly. "Would it do to order in a curry?"

Harry nodded. "That'd be great. Just like old times." Hermione looked up the Wizard Directory, and threw some Floo Powder in the fire, calling up the local indian takeaway.

Several hours later, the two friends sat sprawled out over the loungeroom floor, full and sated and unable to move. Sylvia came out, sniffing around the takeaway containers, and Harry laughed and banished them to the sink, chortling at the cat's surprise indignation.

"Oh, poor Sylvia. Did Bad Harry scare you?" Hermione crooned to her cat, who stalked over and curled up in her lap, putting an uncomfortable look on her face.

Harry smirked. "Too much to eat, eh Hermione?"

She groaned and swatted ineffectually at him. "Shut up, you." She grunted and lifted Sylvia onto the floor. The cat gave an outraged yowl, and skittered off into some other part of the house.

Harry hoisted himself into a more upright position, hugging his knees. "You know, Hermione, I really think you should give this whole Malfoy thing a chance. It's not good for you to be alone."

Hermione rolled onto her side and gazed at him thoughtfully. "You're one to talk."

He flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do." Her voice took on a tone similar to that of her Head Girl days. "You avoid all kinds of romantic involvement, the only woman you ever see is me, and I'm practically your sister. And there's that." She pointed to the wedding band on his left hand, and he covered it possessively. "You need to do something about it, Harry."

He fiddled with the ring childishly. "No." He glared at her. "I don't want to take it off. And you're one to talk! You've still got yours on."

Hermione lowered her eyes, and, looking as though she was in a trance, silently removed the two rings, apologising - and saying goodbye - to Ron as they slid off her slender finger, put them on the ground in front of her, and looked up at Harry, a challenge in her eyes.

Harry gulped, and shook his head. "I'm not going to take them off, Hermione. I...I can't." He slowly raised his eyes to her face, expecting to see disappointment, and was taken aback when he was met with love and compassion.

"I'm not asking you to, silly." She smiled. "I want you to go and see Ginny."

His mouth fell open. "But..."

"Don't you still love her, then?" Her gaze was the unwavering, judgemental stare of a Sphinx. Harry gaped, in awe of her, and abruptly closed his mouth.

"Yes." he said simply. "I'll talk to her."