The Fallout by EveryThursday (reposted)

Thirty-Nine

Day: 1522; Hour: 12

Hermione stares at the walls of her temporary room, reaching toward Draco's trunk to set down the knife she had been using to scrape off the mold. She sends an unappreciative glance at the two paint cans in front of her, and decides at least it's better than what's there.

Allison's boyfriend – who she hadn't stopped talking about since rather rudely staring at the two marks on Hermione's neck – returned with purple, yellow, and brown paint. Hermione had blinked at the cans for seven seconds before Allison and Harry, her boyfriend, had left for one of the bedrooms with the purple. Hermione was still calling him Harry, despite the fact that he had been dubbed 'Junior' and 'The-Other-Harry' – pronounced 'toe' – before majority opinion led to 'Harry Twatter' the night before. Hermione wasn't about to call him Twat, or Twatter, no matter the permission from Harry and snort from Toad. Honestly.

"Granger." Hermione jumps, the yellow streaking out of the even line she had been painting down the wall. She looks to her right, her left, and then behind her before he laughs at her. "It's the voice of God, Granger. I came to apologize for your hair."

She glares at him, then the familiar snort of laughter somewhere above her, finding his face at the hole in the corner. She hadn't realized just how big it was until she saw it in comparison...actually. "I hadn't realized how big that hole was until I saw how well your inflated head fit in it."

"Hilarious," he drawls, and a bit of the roof gives away under his hand on the edge of the hole, crumbling down into the rubbish bin below. It plunks into the rain water, and he adjusts his weight as she gives the ceiling another distrusting look. "What is that color?"

"It's called yel-low," she says slowly, her lips twisted up in an encouraging smile. He scowls and she grins.

"I'm not staring at yellow walls."

She grabs the can she had been using and then the brown, holding them up to him. She had thought about asking him in the first place, but it had felt too personal. Like it was their room, in their house, or something weird like that. Like they were staying for a long time, and like he might care. That's why she figured she would just paint it yellow, instead of even waiting for anyone to get back with something different. It wasn't supposed to matter to her, and asking him what he wanted was like...claiming the room was the two of theirs, their own personal space. It made things...solid.

Draco stares at the paint cans, and then looks up at her. "You want me to pick between dirt brown and sun-fuck yellow?"

"It's all Harry brought back."

"There's more coming."

"Yellow is happy."

"Yellow is the color of urine, bees with stingers, stomach bile, puss, kidney problems--"

"Draco," she laughs out, amused and exasperated at the same time. "What do you want, green?"

"Sure, I'll go with that." Like it had been her suggestion, but his face is gone before she can correct him.

Day: 1522; Hour: 13

"They're asking for more."

"Hm?"

"Harry, Malfoy, and Toad. They're still hungry."

She isn't that surprised, considering she had taken water out to them a half hour ago and they had chugged their glasses in seven seconds flat. They were sweat-soaked with their serious faces on, and didn't seem to be suffering from the headache she had got with all the hammering. It reminds her of missions, except what they encountered on missions usually canceled out physical labor's call for sustenance. They all needed to eat more.