Three years.

That's what it was in reality, but the feeling was still the same. The trio was still a trio, and the wizarding world was healing from large cracks in its psyche; sewn up by the glory and celebrations that followed the downfall of Lord Voldemort and his followers.

But a generation ruled by fear was still trying to shake off the feeling of being afraid for their lives and loved ones. Some had managed to move on before most. Ron Weasley being one of them. It was one dreary February morning that Harry groggily answered his phone, cringing at the loud voice that came over the line:

"Hello?! Hello, Harry- you there? This thing working? Well if you are, I just needed to tell you- Luna and I are getting married!" The last words were an unbelieving shout from Ron over the phone.

It was a few minutes before Harry could assure Ron that he was indeed there, and that he didn't need to shout over the line.

"Blimey mate, I dunno what I've gotten myself into. It just felt right- and I asked and she said yes and I felt like…"

Harry chuckled over the line and could picture Ron's confused and jubilant expression. "Congratulations Ron, she'll make a man out of you yet."

Ron laughed back, "Can you believe it? Me and Loony!"

In the background Harry could hear someone sing back; "You're family is just as bar-my, Ron."

"Luna says hi!" was Ron's response to Harry. It was awhile before the two friends wrapped up the conversation, and Harry hung up; drifting back off to sleep with a contented smile on his face for his longtime friends.

He had spent the next few weeks with the Weasley's and Luna, his time shuffled in between work and consoling Ron on the upcoming ceremony. He had never seen his best friend so wound up, and his other best friend wasn't doing too well either. Hermione's flat was now being converted into dime-a-dozen townhouses, and she had been given a two month notice to buy a space or relocate.

"And of course it has to happen right when I have to leave for Hungary and meet with the secretary of Welfare for Magical Creatures, not to mention Ron and Luna's wedding!" she cried over a huge mound of suds in Harry's kitchen sink.

He had insisted that he take care of them by magic after the dinner they shared, but Hermione obviously needed a stress reliever. She now dropped the huge salad bowl she was scrubbing, and the soapy water spurted up into her face.

"Damn it!" she said, angrily wiping at her eyes. Harry meanwhile, had gotten over the shock of Hermione swearing, and dropped the dishtowel he was using.

"Hold still," he commanded as she continued to blindly try to swipe at her face. Harry transfigured a plate into a handkerchief and ran it under the tap, holding her chin and gently dabbing her red eyes free of soap. "Hermione, why don't you just stay here? You have a room already."

She blinked her eyes warily in the soft kitchen light when he finished. "You really think you can stand me as a roommate?"

"We lived through it last time, didn't we?" he asked. Harry could see her eyes cloud over at the memory of when she had ended up on Harry's doorstep, red-eyed and sniffling from her last row with Ron and requesting to sleep on his couch. He had immediately steered her to the guest bedroom and sat her down on the bed, conjuring a pot of her favorite tea on the bedside table.

"You know how to call Dobby and my door's just down the hall, alright?" he said. It had seemed like the most awkward state to leave his friend in, but he didn't know exactly how to help her. Harry had opted for the one-armed shoulder hug, and mentally kicked himself at the same time. She didn't need him; she needed a girlfriend's sympathetic ear and a huge glass of fire-whiskey.

But just as these thoughts strayed through Harry's mind, Hermione exploded into a sob and threw her arms around his neck. Now Harry had seen Hermione cry before, but nothing like the rib-shaking sobs that were coming from her already raw throat. He didn't know how to console her, and he was pretty sure he would be horrible at getting her to see the lighter side of it all, if there even was one.

So Harry, the gentleman that he was, held his best friend as she tried her best to purge herself from the grief of her failed relationship with Ron. It was a few minutes before she began to calm down, and Harry adjusted himself on the bed while she sniffled. The rain outside had stopped, and a cold moon shone down through the sheer curtains.

"Thanks Harry, I needed that," she said sleepily from his soaked shoulder.

"Don't mention it."

Hermione had stayed for a month, hardly leaving a trace of herself in Harry's spacious flat and offering to fix dinner for him almost every night. As she made the transition from the end of her relationship with Ron to a new flat only a few blocks away from Harry's, the two friends grew close again, without ever broaching the subject of her relationship with Ron.

Now Hermione was staring at the suds in the kitchen sink, biting her lip. "I think I can do that."

Harry inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. "Good. It'll be nice to have you around again. Dobby?"

The house elf appeared at their feet, giant eyes sparkling. "Harry Potter sir! How was tonight's dinner?"

"Great as usual, good job on the roast," replied Harry with a wink. "I was hoping you could do us a favor…Hermione needs to move her stuff into the guest bedroom, and anything else can go in the study. Can you help?" But before he could finish the sentence, Dobby had disapparated.

"You didn't have to get him to help you know," chided Hermione.

"Well, as part of our employee agreement Dobby has to actually do work from time to time. He gets bored otherwise. And then he starts making up jobs, and that's even worse."

Moments later when the dishes were dry, Dobby appeared tugging on Harry's trouser leg. "Finished! Mistress Granger's things are in the guest room," he squeaked, while magicking the plates back into the cupboard.

As Hermione settled into her new quarters, Harry couldn't help the happy feeling that he always had with company staying over at his place. The fact that it was Hermione was even better. He hardly got to see his friends enough now as it was.

The months following were a haze of frantic ministry work, trips to view Ron's quidditch games, and bouts of laziness crammed somewhere in between. It did take some getting used to having Hermione around at first; for example, she was always wide awake at six in the morning and would scamper about the kitchen making breakfast before Harry had dragged himself into the shower. One new habit that had developed was Hermione's tenacity for perfecting new spells which she would often perform in his study. But some things never changed as he often shared tea with her after work while she buried her nose in a book in front of the fireplace, occasionally practicing wand movements and muttering arithmancy equations. She would wrinkle her nose in the same fashion while thinking about Luna's taste in the bridesmaid dress she was asked to wear, and never ceased to give her famous hugs after a particularly terrible day within the ministry.

Only after a month in Harry's flat did Hermione have to run off to her business trip, leaving Harry's place feeling quite empty again. Save for Crookshanks, who never failed to remind Harry to feed him at five in the morning. It was the end of September, and the dreary autumn rains were already hitting the outside of his windows. Harry was finished cleaning up from Ron's bachelor party the night before, and sank onto the sofa. He had perfected his non-verbal incantations, and was now currently working on his wandless magic; finding it quite hard to do so unless he verbally said the spell.

"Incendio," muttered Harry, while concentrating on the fireplace. A dull spark lit up one of the logs, but it was too feeble. He sighed as he pulled out his wand, immediately creating a blaze in the hearth. It was awhile that he sat there, sprawled out on his couch while sipping butterbeer, contemplating Ron's upcoming nuptials, and wondering about Hermione's trip.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach again; was he thinking about her too much? It seemed quite a bit more than usual; he had first thought when she went away. But wasn't that natural? He had been living with her and seeing her everyday- had grown so accustomed to her company that he missed it terribly when she left. There were other thoughts as well; old ones that he had always had for her. Her safety, her well-being… He grinned wistfully at the thought of a scowl on her face if she knew he worried about such things.

The night crept on, and Harry found that he must have dozed off on his couch, for he was woken by a surprised; "Yes?"

He blinked his eyes and looked around to find Hermione hanging her coat next to the door. "Yes what?" he asked, still half asleep.

She chuckled as she walked into the room, "You said my name, Harry."

"Hmm. You're back early…how was your trip?" he mumbled as he slung an arm over his eyes. He felt hands come under his shoulders to lift him up, but he wasn't ready to comply. He groaned and sluggishly tried to turn away, only to feel Hermione sink into the couch and ease his shoulders back against her legs.

"It was long… and cold," she said quietly as Harry heard her flip open a book and rest it on the leather arm of the couch. Harry listened to the sounds of the room, feeling content once again that he had Hermione's company again. He heard the soft rustle of the pages; the sound her fingers made as the rubbed across the parchment, Dobby padding in and out of the rooms and setting down tea next to the couch, the purring of Crookshanks somewhere near the hearth.

"I'm glad you're back, Hermione," he mumbled before he let himself sink back into sleep. It didn't register to him that she had not responded; instead she let her gaze travel over her friend of ten years, and the secret thought that she was just as glad as well.

"Hermione…" he mumbled again.

"Shh. Go back to sleep, Harry," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't long before his deep breathing matched the sounds of Crookshanks by the fire.