"Forgive me if I've overstepped somehow," Hermione says first, bowing her head in thanks for the tea before pulling it closer to herself, hands cupped around the warmth. It's too hot to drink just yet, but she doesn't bother cooling it with her wand. The luxury of time is all too rare in their lives, and she's not in any hurry to let it slip away.

"I'm just trying to understand. To what end, I'm not sure. Maybe I miss Harry enough that simply talking about him is enough to ease that somewhat," she murmurs, pulling her lower lip in briefly and hooking her ankles, toes bumping against the floor. "Is it that he reminds you of his father?"