A/N: This chapter is kind of filler, just little 'one-shots' I guess, that shows interaction between the trio over the months where they aren't fighting battles or going after Horcruxes, showing Harry learning how to deal with muteness, and showing 'sparks' between Harry and Hermione. I may post more of these later, or make a seperate fic, but for now, I don't want to waste chapters and chapters of the same stuff.

DISCLAIMER: Fully disclaimed. I own nothing that you recognize as canon.

No matter what he did, he just couldn't remember these damn hand signs! He was about two inches away from burning each and every last one of these books, throwing in the towel, and going to sleep for a month. He slammed his head against the table in frustration, groaning.

"Harry?"

Hermione stood in the doorway, frowning. She walked over to him and gently took his face in her hands, tilting it up to face her own. "What's wrong?"

Harry grabbed his notebook, which was sitting next to him on the table. "I can't get these signs right!"

Hermione tapped a finger against her chin, considering. Then she broke into a grin.

"Hey, have you ever heard of charades?"

Twenty minutes later...

"Purple Cats that Live on Mars and Eat Carrots and Chocolate Bars While Playing the Flute? Harry, there is no way that that's a book."

Harry held up a parchment, where he had already written his response.

"Well, it was fun watching you try to guess it."

"GET BACK HERE!"

Hermione woke to the sound of strangled cries across the hallway. She sighed in resignation and stood, casting a Lumos as she did so. Her bare feet made no noise as she left the room and walked into Harry's room. She lifted her wand to cast light on the thrashing figure, and choked back a sob as she reached forward to shake him. This had been happening every night for the past two weeks. Ever since the Ministry. Harry would relive the torture Umbridge had put him through, Hermione would comfort him, and Ron would sleep through it all.

"Harry? Harry, come on, wake up."

He screamed again as he sat bolt upright, and upon seeing Hermione he started crying as he remembered the nightmare. She knew that he hated being weak, she knew that he would take this as a sign of weakness. Harry had always been the strongest person she knew, and it broke her heart to see him like this.

He moved his hands to form a single sign "Scared."

He didn't know that much sign language, Hermione had no doubt that he would explain himself more if he did. He was struggling to rely on paper as little as possible, instead using his hands (and occassionally wild gestures if he didn't know a sign) to express how he felt, or to take part in a conversation. All three of them had become rather adapt at charades.

"It's okay, you're here. Nothing can hurt you, you're safe. Shh..." It was almost like comforting a child, but Hermione learned that Harry was never in his right mind after a nightmare.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He moved his hands in the sign for the letter 'K' before closing his eyes and snuggling back under the covers. Within minutes he was asleep. Hermione sighed and stood, staring down at her sleeping friend.

"I won't let anyone hurt you again. Ever. I promise you that."

And then she walked out.

Hermione and Harry had woken up earlier than normal, Hermione because she wanted to work on their list of possible Horcrux locations, Harry because he wanted to practice sign language. She felt a tap on her shoulder and she looked up to see Harry trying to get her attention.

"Hungry."

"You're hungry?" asked Hermione, startled at the bluntness Harry used. Granted he didn't know much sign, but his directness was rather rude, and she knew that he wasn't a rude person.

"No," he signed, before pointing at Hermione. "Hungry."

"Oh, you're asking me if I'm hungry?" He nodded.

"Yeah, a little," she said

"K-elf (The sign he had invented for Kreacher) asleep. I'll cook."

"Okay, thanks."

Harry walked over to the fridge and Hermione returned to her list. Was there possibly a Horcrux in Tom Riddle's old orphanage? She, Ron, and Harry would have to investigate the possibility. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, still deep in thought. Harry was adamant that there was a Horcrux at Hogwarts, but Hermione really didn't want to risk it.

The two worked in companiable silence, Harry laying strips of bacon on the frying pan, Hermione scribbling down yet another possible location, before Harry once again got her attention.

"Eh."

She looked up at Harry. "Yeah?"

"Relax. Read a book."

"I can't. I don't want to waste time."

"Read a book."

"Harry-"

"Relax."

"Harry-"

"Re-"

"HARRY, THE BACON IS BURNING!"

"Come on!"

"No."

"Ask her!"

"No."

"You know you like her."

"FOR THE LAST TIME RON!" Harry capatalized each word, writing so furiously that he tore the parchment. "I AM NOT ASKING HERMIONE OUT!"

"He likes you!"

"No he doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Doesn't"

"Does."

"HA!"

"THAT DIDN'T COUNT!" yelled Hermione, throwing hexes at him.

"Okay, okay, it didn't. But I'm telling you, he likes you."

"NO HE DOESN'T!"

"I hate silent casting," Harry scribbled down in irratation, handing the scrap piece of paper to Hermione.

"I know, but would you rather be defenseless?" she asked wearily. "Let's try it again."

This time, Harry managed to keep the fire from his wordless Incendio going for five minutes. Hermione was currently thanking Merlin that this hadn't happened in fifth year, when Harry was full of teenage angst and hadn't had the basics of silent casting taught to him yet. That would have just been a pure nightmare.

"Nice job. Now let's go for amount instead of time."

The two were in the basement of Number 12, Hermione refused to let Harry train anywhere else after the 'turtles and french poodles incident.' She had been picking pink fur off of her clothes for weeks, and she was still finding turtles in the cupboard.

Needless to say, the now mute boy-who-lived had been highly amused. His friends/housemates...not so much. Ron had chased Harry all over the house with the broom, and Hermione had hit him in the face with a well-timed Aquamenti.

Back to the present, Harry was currently grinning now that he got to move on to the big flames. After Harry had singed off Hermione's eyebrows, she had made him practice with little ones, trying to keep them going for as long as possible.

Hermione ran and hid behind an old armchair that Harry had brought down for target practice, casting a Protego over herself for good measure.

Harry waved his wand, concentrating hard. And suddenly the room was filled with flames, radiating outwards from Harry, him standing in the middle of the inferno, holding the wand aloft with a triumphant grin on his face, none of the flames getting close enough to burn him.

Hermione smiled as Harry let the spell drop and the flames die. She was relieved that she had insisted on practicing in the basement, if she hadn't, Harry would have burned the house down.

"Okay, that was great! And I think I know what your problem is. Your power is very high, it's control you have trouble with."

Harry just gave her a look, one that said plain as day 'Way to state the obvious.'

She crossed her arms over her chest and mock-glared at him, before turning and heading up the stairs.

"Come on. I don't know about you, but I'm parched."

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was deeply immersed in one of the several Sign Language books she had bought. He was cooking again because, despite the almost-burnt-bacon fiasco, he was the best cook besides Kreacher. He had, after all, had a lot of practice at the Dursley residance.

It was slightly annoying that he couldn't actually eat any of his finished products, and had to take his friends words for it that it was good. He almost laughed at the irony of it all. It had been a month and a half since he had his tongue had been torn out, and he was adapting to it pretty well.

At least, he thought so. So did Ron and Hermione. He knew though, that when he actually went out into the world, things would be different. Not very many people would have even the rudimentary grasp on sign language that the three did. Harry knew it would take years before he was fully fluent in it, but at least he was able to communicate to his friends without getting a hand cramp from writing everything out.

And Hermione was a godsend. She picked up on the language quickly (when does she not?) and was, even when he wasn't signing, usually able to interpret what he was saying. Ron was also good at sign language, and he studied it harder, Harry was sure, than anything he ever had before.

But it just wasn't the same somehow. Harry and Hermione had this deep bond, this understanding, that flowed between them. And in spite of himself, Harry felt himself falling for the bushy-haired bookworm. But that was useless, pointless, a dream that would never come true.

Who would want him? Ever?

Hermione walked into the room looking unusually satisfied. She had gone out, under the cloak, to scout a possible Horcrux location and returned looking like a cat that caught the canary.

"What's got you looking so happy?" asked Ron, and Harry gave her a puzzled look. She smirked evily, and the two boys shuddered. Harry could almost swear that Hermione had sprouted poisoness fangs.

"I managed to find where a certain pink toad lives," she said triumphantly. "Some Ministry workers were talking about it.

Harry froze. He didn't ever want to see that woman again. Still, the prospect of revenge was very tempting. What to do...

If this was a cartoon, a devil and an angel would appear on his shoulders. The conversation that followed would go something like this.

"Violence is not the answer."

"You're kidding me, right? The lady cut his freaking tongue out, and you say that he shouldn't get some form of revenge?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Oh, you know what? Screw you!"

And with that, the devil would hit the angel over the head with a frying pan.

Harry had a...very strange imagination.

"Harry? Harry?"

"Sorry."

"You were staring off into space with a maniacal grin on your face. What are you planning?"

"Paper. Pen."

"Here."

Ron shoved the aforementioned objects into his hands. And with that, Harry Potter began to plot his great revenge.

NEW SPECIES OF TOAD DISCOVERED IN FRONT OF LONDON ZOO

The head zookeeper of the London Zoo is used to caring for exotic animals. But, when he came across a huge, and very ugly, pink toad directly inside the gates, he was, needless to say, stunned.

"It was like nothing I'd ever seen before," he said.

The toad has been named the 'Toungeless Pink Toad' for now, the scientific name is still being decided. The toad was, as the name suggests, completely missing it's tongue. Scientests are baffled at this feature, believing it to be some sort of genetic mutation.

The toad had a collar around it's neck, and, according to the nametag, it was name 'Dolores' by the zoo. If anyone is missing a large tongueless pink toad, please call the London Zoo to claim it.

The trio was in stitches the day that newspaper came out. Their plan had worked perfectly.

Harry was bored. He had studied Sign Language, gone over possible Horcrux locations, and played charades too many times to count, and wanted to do something else. Plus, Ron kept pestering him to ask out Hermione.

"Where would I take her?"

"...ummm..."

"Exactly."

"Hey you two!" Harry turned around. Speak of the devil, it was Hermione. "Do you guys wanna play a game of-"

If she says charades I'm sooo going to make use of that animal spell we used on Umbridge.

"-Truth or Dare? With some vertiaserum of course. What fun would it be otherwise?"

"Sure why not?"

"Yes!"

At last, something to alleviate the boredom!

After the trio drank the vertiaserum, Ron went first, asking Hermione the age-old question. She responded with 'truth.' Ron grinned evily.

"Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?"

"Snape. In first year."

"WHAT?"

Harry burst out laughing, Ron turned the color of parchment, and Hermione was currently as red as a tomato.

"It was before I knew what a complete and utter jerk he was, okay?" Harry continued rolling around on the floor as the two bickered.

"But still, it's Snape, of all people!"

"Would you rather I say Flitwick?"

"NO!"

"Um...Harry! Truth or dare?" asked Hermione, taking the attention off of herself and redirecting it to the messy-haired midget laughing at her misery. He choked back a laugh and made the hand sign for 'dare.'

Hermione grinned and ran into the kitchen. After much banging and clashing (and a small explosion, though she would later deny it) she returned with a glass of...something.

"I dare you to drink this!"

Harry smirked. For once, not having taste buds was an advantage. He chugged the liquid down easily and handed it back to Hermione, who was currently grinning like a maniac. He wondered why, and then he suddenly got the urge to go and light something on fire.

He cackled and ran out of the room. Ron gave Hermione a nervous look.

"Umm...Hermione? What was that?"

"Every kind of soda in the fridge, a 5-hour energy, coffee, and a Monster."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" yelled Ron, his eyes going wide. He remembered the time his brothers had pranked Harry by slipping a 'Caffeine Candy' into his breakfast. One word: Chaos. "DO YOU KNOW HOW HE REACTS TO CAFFEINE?"

"...no?"

And that's when they heard the maniacal, if slightly choked, laughter.

"Crap."

"Harry, DROP THE LIGHTER!"

"Ah! No, Harry!"

"This is why we never give Harry caffeine!"

Needless to say, their Truth or Dare game had an early conclusion. And Hermione vowed to never give Harry caffiene again. EVER.

Knock, knock, knock.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who were just then in an intense argument over a subject that could decide the fate of the world, tensed. Kreacher popped into the room.

"The werewolf-man is at the door."

"Oh, Professor Lupin? Let he in please, Kreacher," said Hermione. Kreacher nodded and popped away. Harry fidgeted, backing away from the fridge, which had been the scource of their argument. Ron and Hermione were very determined to enforce the 'no caffiene for Harry' rule. He had just wanted a soda!

He wasn't sure how he'd be able to handle Lupin, especially since the last time he had been here, Harry had both been able to speak, and had said some rather nasty things.

"Hello? Are you three in here?" Lupin asked, walking around the corner.

"Professor!" said Hermione, waving.

"I haven't been your teacher in years, Hermione. You can call me Remus. Anyways, Harry," he began, "I...considered what you said to me last time. And...you're right. I was a coward, I was running away. And I feel awful for it. I'm sorry."

Harry took a deep breath. Here goes.

"I'm sorry too."

Remus's eyes widend. "Are you using...sign language?"

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes firmly affixed on the floor.

"What happened to you?"

He dosen't sign anything, or write anything. His eyes are wide and he's shaking. He hasn't thought about it in awhile. But that simple question 'what happened to you?' brought the memories rushing back.

Hermione comes to the rescue. She leads Remus, Harry, and Ron into the living room, and directs them to a couch. "Sit down. This is going to take awhile."

A/N: Enter Remus Lupin! What exactly will he do when he finds out what happened to his best friend's son...find out next time!

-Winged Quill