Hermione was comfortable. She didn't want to move or talk or do anything that would require effort or thought. She didn't want to do anything more than exist in this precise moment. Harry's arm around her shoulders was more comforting than anything else she had experienced since waking up. Although. It had been very nice, seeing Ronal- Ron. Without having had to call him, without needing to force him to even look at her, to acknowledge her presence. It had been very nice.
"He came, you know," she eventually told him quietly, as though afraid that anyone might be listening in. "He came and then he left. Knocked the chair over in his rush to get away from me. But. ... Did you tell him to?"