Late in the evening Who: Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger Where: Neville's guest suite, Hogwarts When: Late night, 14-15 July What: Awakenings
Hermione surfaced from dreams so gradually that she hardly knew she had awakened, that the warmth and strength she nestled into weren't mere phantasm, to disappear at the next whim of unpredictable sleeping fancy. Outside the half-open casement, Hogwarts was quiet, hardly even a flutter of owl-wings to disturb the cool, damp Scottish summer night. From Neah's room alongside, nothing but a breathing silence.
She was tired -- Ginny's nightmares, Harry's care, the propaganda campaign against Umbridge, finding ways to occupy Hogwarts summer boarders, last-minute arrangements surrounding the abandoned Camp Hogwarts, trying not to fret over Marietta or Mike or Remus, struggling against the bleak traction of the Void in her soul where Ron had been -- she was tired, but this, this was very like peace, Neville's sleeping breath warm on her forehead, Neville's body solid and reassuring against her, Neville's love steady and sustaining as his arm behind her back.
In one small hard-fought victory over the Void, Hermione felt such a pang of returning love she could almost have wept at having forgotten for so long how she loved Neville, why she loved him. She did not weep, but she did free one arm from the bedclothes to brush her hand through his hair, softly and half-guiltily and only once, lest she wake him. He had if anything been working harder than she; he deserved his rest.