"I suppose that makes sense." Hermione's look remained skeptical. It really did look like an awful lot of work for a largely field-oriented position.
"Well, I doubt anyone but me fancies seeing your manky jeans," Hermione answered with a laugh. "So I'm sorry but they're yours to keep. If you really still have them, that is."
While she'd saved the remnants of the horcurxes, Hermione had happily incinerated the clothing she'd worn for so many months. No amount of washing up would restore them. She imagined that in reality, Harry had likely done the same.
"I wasn't asking him for that," Hermione said, with a slight roll of her eyes. "I thought maybe something about how happy he'd been to see Voldemort vanquished would be on track with his whole image rehabilitation schtick. But no mind. He can go and look as though he's being tortured like he does every year."
At the mention of the snitch, Hermione's eyes lit up genuinely, and she leaned forward to tap Harry on the back of his hand.
"That would be wonderful, really. If I can knock out all of this memorabilia nonsense, then I can focus on the food. Do you know no-one thought to order anything sweet? I put in an order for some pastries with that bakery I told you about."