Obliviate -the lost week (Harmione)

Tergeo

"The blue one, Harry" she said, lips pressed on a line, cheeks flustered by the heat of the burning potion.

Harry passed it down and read the next line of the recipe while Hermione mixed the potion clock-wise for a last time.

"It says we must let it rest" he informed.

Drying her hands, she approached to look over his shoulder

"We'll have to set an alarm" she planned. "We can't spoil this"

Then the witch sighed, frustrated of not having anything productive to do in several long hours. She hadn't realized she had been breathing on his neck, and he was immobile. Suddenly, he stood and left the book on the table. To her puzzled gaze, he whispered something about a shower.

She grabbed the wand and walked out of the tent. It was twilight, and they must be keeping watch.

Two days and a night before, they had arrived back to the forest of Dean. As expected, it had taken time to find the frozen pool they had dived in two nights before that, which was even icier if possible, and there was no trace of whoever might have put the sword in place. They had focused on the venom-detecting potion. She had reluctantly and somewhat distractedly started to read Skeeter's book.

None of them had brought out the topic of their last night at the house.

The sky was tainted red, the flying birds were barely noticeable against the irregular streaks. The color no longer saddened her. Hermione had other things to think about. None of them included Voldemort, she hadn't even realized they hadn't spoken the name aloud in weeks.

Instead, she thought of Harry, the way she thought about him now.

Yes, she was very aware that nothing had happened in two days, which seemed to be a pattern with them: they weren't casual enough to peck on the other one's lips, maybe because they were staking so much, not only their relationship but also everything that relied on it. The complimenting each other was no more a habit than it had been before. They worked together, joked a bit, read to each other, spent hours just sitting beside each other. But sometimes, she would find him staring at her. His eyes would still be green behind his glasses, but barely so, as she found his pupils enlarged. Those times, her breath got caught in her throat. Even while experiencing it all, she knew from her readings what it meant, and once again she found herself torn between knowing and feeling, because certainly, knowledge didn't ease away sensation. She couldn't speak of soul and body: that particular division didn't exist anymore. When he looked at her like that, all of what she was and all she would become, was suddenly awake and yearning.

His sudden presence beside her made her cringe.

"You should sleep first" Hermione commented.

"I'm not sleepy" he said as he sat beside the witch, an arm around a raised knee. That hand held the marauder's map. She looked at it briefly, and he noticed.

"I hadn't touched it since just before finding the sword."

It wasn't an explanation, not at all. Harry didn't need to provide one, and she certainly wouldn't demand one. She wondered if jealousy would be expected from her. She honestly experienced none. It was as if they had both widowed, or more accurately, as if they were deceased. Even marriage was till death, though she recalled some religions held marriage for seven reincarnations or so. No one expected a widow to forget about the deceased one.

"I was wondering what I would feel watching their comings and goings, not having seen them in so many months. But I guess they keep being at the Burrow."

"Is he back in Hogwarts?" the witch asked, slightly alarmed.

"Not that I'm aware of, though I was thinking he might."