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"What are doing reading Charms?" Ron asked, leaning in far too close for Hermione's present comfort. (Not that she didn't like his closeness—she did. A little too much.) "You spent all of last year doing Charms. Those ones you cast on the tent won't be on the bloody N.E.W.T.s."
She flicked another page of her Charms text, only allowing herself the barest glance up through her eyelashes. "Exactly. I've got make sure I know what is on them."
"You'll get an O. Hermione, you'll get all Os. Won't she, Harry?"
"Yeah." Harry nodded. "I reckon she could punch the examiner in the face and still get an O."
Hermione stifled a laugh. "Well, I wouldn't go that far."
"It's true," Ron said with conviction. "You didn't even have to come back this year."
He was right. After the battle, Kingsley had asked all three of them to join the Ministry right away, but Hermione had wanted to do it properly. What she hadn't expected was Harry and Ron turning down the offer, too.
She looked up again to see Ron whispering something in Harry's ear. Probably filthy, judging by the color of them now. Not that Harry couldn't give as good as he got, of course. This was probably all orchestrated for her benefit. Already, she was reading the same paragraph twice.
Perhaps she hadn't been so surprised that they had followed her back to school. The three of them had grown closer than ever during their year on the run and as much as she'd been thrilled to have Ron return her feelings, it was even more of a thrill to have Harry join them. And then, she'd realized it wasn't just that—it was all three of them, together. And nothing had ever felt more right.
The silence of the deserted common room was broken by Harry's gasp. Hermione looked up again. Ron had given up his own book entirely and Harry was only holding onto his with the tips of his fingers.
"Ron," he muttered. "You're distracting her."
Ron gave Hermione a pointed look. "I know."
Hermione glanced back down at her book. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of having succeeded, but once Harry's book hit the table, she couldn't resist. She shut her Charms book with a snap. By this time, Harry was nearly in Ron's lap, fingers tangled in his hair. They both looked at each other with matching guilty expressions.
"Sorry," Harry said. He swallowed hard. His hair was even messier than usual and his glasses were askew.
Hermione stood. "No, you're right." She stepped around the table and kissed Harry, savoring it until Ron let out a low groan that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She stepped back, pleased. She hadn't been about to let Ron have all the fun. "I do need a break."
She ran her hand slowly up Ron's arm, unable to take her eyes off his large hand resting high on Harry's thigh. She loved both of these men, she knew, and she marveled that it had taken so long for them all to realize it.
"We could go sit by the fire," Ron said thickly. "You know, Hermione, sometimes I'm glad you're always up so late revising."