The Fallout by EveryThursday (reposted)

Forty-Four

Day: 1558; Hour: 20

"About time they released you."

A huff of a laugh. "Too worried about me to sleep, Granger?"

"You wish. I was plotting my revenge."

"Mm," and he really does sound excited by this. "Care to share?"

"Is it sharing time, then?"

He knows her too well. He knows she's crossed the line of playfulness or coming up with hollow threats because he remains silent. His belt clinks off something and there's a rustle of fabric, though he hasn't lain down yet.

"Why did it take them five hours to release you?" And he probably knows that she really means 'what are you and Harry not telling me?'

"It took them about twenty minutes."

"Oh."

"Potter and I went for a drink."

She blinks three times at the bedside table. "Really?"

He makes a noise of amusement, and the bed sinks down. "Really. On the other side of the house."

She glares at him. "You were here for the last five hours?" she asks, but then it sounds too needy, too demanding of his presence, and so: "That's..." weird, "good."

He huffs a laugh, and she wonders if he can read her mind now that he's been inside of it. Then she wonders what he and Harry happened to talk about when the only things they share in common are her and the war, and no one likes to talk about the war. Oh, God. She really hopes Harry didn't give him some big brother speech or something.

"I haven't decided if Potter is less annoying when he's drunk, or just easier to deal with when I am."

They were together for hours. Was it the first time they had done something like this? Or is it just because they had something to discuss, and then a mission to try and forget?

He doesn't seem distant with her, and she wonders if it's the alcohol, or if she's wrong, or if he doesn't feel the need to be. "Well, I'm sure since you're no longer caught up in trying to prove you're better than him, he's--"

"I've never tried to prove I was better than Potter. I already knew it. Anyone who didn't was an idiot, and therefore, not worth my attempt in the first place."

"Oh, is that what you tell yourself?"

She can feel his glower against the back of her head. "It's what I know. But no worries, Granger, I don't hold the past against you."

She fists the blanket, staring down at the white of her knuckles. "You're so gracious."

"I'm aware. Your mental handicap is no fault of your own, no matter how annoying it is, drunk or sober."

"You stink."

The bed bounces, and he snorts. "Worst comeback yet, Granger. I see you're slowly deteriorating with time. I can't say I'm surprised."

"I meant you literally stink, git. Like alcohol."

"Well, let's see, Granger... I've mentioned drink, drunk--"

"I see you're annoying both drunk and sober, then."

"Perhaps if you stop trying to prove yourself better than-- What was that?"

"I said I'm going to start storing these memories, so when you annoy me to death, they can put you in Azkaban for it."

"That's cute, Granger. However, I'm sure they will see it was in self-defense. Temporary insanity due to overexposure of Hermione Granger. Show them a couple memories and watch how fast I get out."