The Fallout by EveryThursday (reposted)

Twelve

Day: 1221; Hour: 5

Hermione and Neville eye each other from across the expanse of the living room, and Hermione knows that he knows what it is she had done last night. Or, who, really.

"You're gay."

"You're having sex with Draco Malfoy."

"Even, then?"

"Secret, then?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Good."

"Great."

Day: 1224; Hour: 16

"I thought this war was almost over three months ago."

"When it's over, you'll know it."

"Who do you miss the most?" Hermione focuses her attention on his reflection in the window rather than what's going on outside of it, though he doesn't seem willing to respond. "I miss my parents. At least I hear from Ron and Harry sometimes, and know they are safe and okay. But my parents..."

"Your mother thinks I have beautiful teeth."

"What?" She isn't sure if she heard him correctly, though if she did, her voice sounds astonished enough for it.

"At Kings Cross, after...Fourth year? Fifth, maybe. She told me I had beautiful teeth, and asked me what wizarding procedures I use."

"Oh, Jesus." Hermione covers her face, imagining just how Draco must have acted toward a Muggle at that age.

"You look a lot like her, you know," he mutters as an afterthought, and she slides her hand down enough to look at his reflection again.

"I know. My family tells me that that is what I have to look forward to."

"It's not bad, for an older woman."

"Find my mother attractive, do you?" Her laugh bubbles up no matter how much she tries to shove it down.

He glares at the back of her head, she sees, before looking back at her reflection. "I meant that you don't have much to be self-conscious about, even old, despite how adamant you are about being that way now."

"I am not self-conscious."

"Right."

She looks back at the trees, whipping around in the wind as if they might topple at any second, searching for a change of topic. "Well at least you don't have to worry about graying. Your hair is already white."

"Ha ha."

She hadn't meant it as an insult, and speaks before she can think about not. "I like it."

When she got up the nerve to look at his reflection again, he's staring thoughtfully back at her. He tucks his hands into his pockets and crosses the three steps to her, his shirt just touching the back of hers.

"See those two stars up there? Directly ahead, up...see them? Larger, and the smaller one diagonal to the left of it?"

"Yes." She was hesitant, unsure where he is going with this.

"They call the larger star Hestia, and the smaller one Salvatore. The story goes that Salvatore was one of the first men to be tried for witchery in Great Britain, and he was locked away after finding him guilty. He was supposed to be burned that night, when Hestia, a Muggle deeply in love with the concept of magic, snuck down to his cell and broke him free. Salvatore took shelter in the woods, Hestia promising to bring him food for his journey away from the town. When she never showed, Salvatore snuck back into town under the cover of night."