AN: The wedding is here! I've been waiting to write this chapter for the longest time, and now I finally got to. It took a while, but it did turn out on the longer side. I know some ideas in this has come from reviews (one scene in particular, and I love whoever came up with that), so please, if you see something and feel it's yours: Let me know and I'll make sure to give you the credit.

As usual I'm sending heaps of love to everyone who's with me this far. Old as well as new. I can't wait to hear your take on this, because getting to know what you think about different things is one of the better parts of writing. Long-distance hugs to all of you and stay as safe (and sane) as you can in these crazy, frightening times!

PS: There's a song mentioned in this chapter. If you haven't heard it, it should be no more than an entry into your search engine of choice away. It's not necessary for following what's going on, I don't think, but it could help.

Kakashi doesn't think he's ever shook hands with this many people in such a short amount of time. They're everywhere, and Hermione seems to know all of them, and even if he still had the sharingan Kakashi knows he'd fail to put names to all these faces. Mainly because around the tenth, he stops trying. Watches instead as Hermione greets them and gauges from her reactions who are the more important ones. Usually those are the names he's heard before, but not always. He does try to remember those faces.

To make it worse, no one has much problem remembering him. Having lived all his life in Konoha, first with a famous father and then with a reputation of his own, Kakashi's not used to being the unknown newcomer. These people are blatantly curios, watching the outsider at Hermione's side. It doesn't bother him, per se, he's been the talk of the town in worse ways, but it makes him self-conscious and itchy.

Something pink steps up to Kakashi's side. "Kakashi," Luna says, her painted lips matching the nuance of her dress, and shoes, and jewellery, "you have the best hair for these things. Normally, I can't find Hermione for ages." Kakashi can imagine why; with her hair in a complicated braid, make-up on her face, and wearing a dress, Hermione looks very little like Kakashi's used to seeing her. Not better or worse, simply different. She even holds herself straighter.

Reaching up to draw a hand over said hair, Kakashi can't help but smile. "Maa," he tells Luna, leaving Hermione to talk to whoever the brown-haired girl in front of her is. "It comes with the last name."

This time, when Luna steps in to hug him, Kakashi is at least prepared. She moves on to Hermione, and slightly less enthusiastically to the girl who's name Kakashi didn't bother remembering. Before Luna showed up, Kakashi and Hermione was part of a small minority wearing non-magical fashion. With Luna around, fitting in matters less somehow. She singlehandedly changes the scope of 'normal' to include far more people. It's a bit like standing next to Gai, whose spirited demeanours always made people less likely to notice Kakashi.

The crowd keeps shifting, but Luna sticks to his side. Kakashi has learnt to recognize the Weasley hair, as clear as any clan-mark, and watches them interact with Hermione. None are impolite, but they're not all warm either. Only one stays for more than a cursory greeting, and that's the one with a connection to Luna. Charlie, Kakashi thinks it was, the dragon-guy. The parade ends with George, carrying an easy grin and a toddler, passing Kakashi a shrunken package. "On the house," he says, "since your purchase was interrupted and all."

Finally, there's Ron, whom Kakashi notices well before he's introduced. Both him and Hermione have avoided each other for as long as they can at that point, and while Hermione's smile and tone is perfectly in place once they stand before each other everything else gives her away. The way the hug is nothing but hands on shoulders. Her eyes, not quite meeting Ron's as she introduces them. Kakashi knows how to play the game, shakes hands politely and pretends this is a friend like any other, but he knows the difference. Can feel Ron knows it too in the tightness of his grip, as if it's a competition.

.oOo.

Weddings, Hermione thinks, has a way of being amazing. Not only because the bride and groom are ridiculously cute, but also due to everyone else being keen to make it perfect for them. It's charades, some of it, like her and Ron pretending things are just fine, but that's the point. With everyone on their best behaviour it's easy to fake it 'til she makes it. Not to mention it is great to get a full evening surrounded by friends she spends too little time with. If some people are lukewarm in their response to her, that's alright. They can be ignored in favour of others Hermione rather hangs out with. Like Neville. Whoever seated them opposite each other deserves a reward.

"So," she asks him over the table, somewhere towards the end of dinner, "how's teaching?" It's his fourth year she thinks, and she'd always thought it suits him better than being an auror. A lot of them went that way after the war out of expectations, but Hermione's not sure anyone but Harry actually wanted it.

"Much better now that I'm allowed to live off grounds," Neville smiles, but Hermione knows that was a fierce battle between him and "tradition". No wonder the school has had problems recruiting. "The student are little pests, honestly, but I love it." There's no question that he does, with the way his voice comes to life and his eyes light up. The only other subject bringing it out this clearly has been Hanna, and the home they're building.

"Surely they can't be worse than us?" Hermione asks him, happy to keep that look on her friend's face.

"Oh, but that's the whole problem," Neville admits, his face reddening from laughter. Once, Hermione would have taken it as embarrassment, but she knows better now. "They're so bad at it; I mean, they can't sneak around after curfew for the life of them."

"You want your students to sneak around after curfew?" Kakashi asks by Hermione's side. His head is tilted to the side and he watches Neville.

"Well," Neville says, "they're going to do it, that's just how it is. But like this, it's so hard not to catch them. If I honestly tried, I'd already be overseeing detentions every evening and weekend up until Christmas, and that's three weeks into the term. No way am I taking on that much overtime."

Hermione leans her forehead against her palm as they laugh, then scrunch up her face as she looks back up at Neville. "We were as bad, weren't we?" She can see it; her, Harry and Ron, crammed under the invisibility cloak but shuffling and whispering in the echoing hallways. "Maybe not in the later years, since you know," she refrains from finishing the sentence. "But when we were kids?"

"Oh yes," Neville nods, his eyes humorously wide and his tone grave, "I work with some of our old teachers, you know. I get to hear things." Around them, everyone their age who went to Hogwarts turns to watch the conversation.

"Come on Longbottom," a girl from Ginny's team (Tracy, maybe?) calls out, "don't leave us hanging."

Neville only shakes his head, miming zipping his mouth closed. He's saved by Lee taking the stage, only to hand the mic over to his toastmaster colleague.

"Harry," George says, the room slowly quieting around them. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Ginny has a few brothers." Hermione can practically feel the anticipation rising in the room, grins forming and cutlery being put down. "Now, I've been told it would look bad if I threatened you on your own wedding," he throws a glare Angelina's way, "so I figured I'll sing a song instead."

This, Hermione thinks, could either be one of the best things about this day, or one of the worst. It's unlikely to fall anywhere in between. The Weasley brothers doesn't have the greatest track-record when it comes to avoiding sexist clichés such as threatening their sister's boyfriend. That they've used a joking tone while doing so doesn't take away the fact it's both demeaning and an insult to Ginny's judgement. Since no one ever threatened Hermione not to hurt Ron, it's clearly not about the Weasleys standing up for their siblings; it's the Weasley brothers thinking their sister needs special treatment. Or at least they did, years ago. Hopefully they've grown up since.

Tapping his wand against the microphone George lets a beat fill the room, accompanied by a piano. He makes a few silly dance moves, turns to Harry, and smiles. "If she didn't have you," he sings, "someone else would do." [AN: 'If I didn't have you' by Tim Minchin]

Across the room people sputter. From their various seats the Weasley brothers stand, filling in as choir. "Your love is one in a million," George sings, "you couldn't buy it at any price. But out of the nine-point-nine-nine-nine-hundred-thousand other possible loves, statistically some of them would be equally nice."

On Harry's right side, Molly is throwing her son a warning look which he ignores with a lifetime of practice. On Harry's left, Ginny is laughing, trying and failing to hide it behind her napkin. In between them Harry looks a little wide-eyed, his eyes jumping between George and Ginny. Hermione knows him well enough to catch the exact moment the meaning of the song sinks in; the twitch of his eyes, the way his lips are pushed together to avoid smiling, the tooth rotting glance he shares with Ginny.

As George and the Weasley choir finishes, allowing the final, "someone else would surely do," to drag out, most people are laughing. George bows to the applause, and Hermione turns back to her table. Her grin is big enough that it's straining her cheeks.

"I didn't think I'd ever say this," she tells anyone and everyone, "but George Weasley just gave me a new favourite love song."

"Did you have an old favourite love song?" Kakashi questions, but it's drowned by Gabrielle.

"It was kind of rude though," she says, "wasn't it?"

Hermione turns to her, diagonally across the table, and reminds herself Gabrielle is not only younger, her native language is also French. "I don't think so," Hermione says, "I mean, it had its moments, but mostly it was about how great love is something you choose. That the notion of a single person being the only one for you is, well, statistically unlikely, meaning there's no obligation to stay."

The frown Gabrielle's sporting hasn't eased but before Hermione can think of something else to add Neville leans forward, an elbow resting against the table as he twists to be able to see Gabrielle. "I think what Hermione's saying," he tells her, "is that love should be freely chosen. If you go into it with both eyes open, knowing the other isn't perfect, but deciding the good far outweighs the bad, that's a great foundation. There's a point in knowing your significant other will only stay as long as they feel that way, and trusting that love to last. Commitment is worth a whole lot more when it's a choice made every moment together, than if you think it's your duty as a soulmate."

"Oh my god," Gabrielle says, blinking, "that's really deep. And beautiful. Why didn't you say so straight away, Hermione?"

On her left, Kakashi is laughing. He might not make a sound, or any movement, but Hermione is certain; he's laughing. "Yes Hermione," he says, "why didn't you say so?" She gives him her best unimpressed glare.

"I didn't know you wanted in on the conversation," she tells him, rearranging her face to look politely interested, "but please feel free share your thoughts with the rest of us. I'd love to hear your view on the subject." Kakashi goes very still. He blinks. Hermione gives him a couple of seconds before smiling. "I thought so," she adds an edge to her voice, knowing he won't take offence, "then how about you shut up?"

"Besides," Hermione adds a moment later, turned back to the rest of the group, "I did say so, only with fewer words."

"I can't believe you're not a Ravenclaw," Terry says from his seat at Gabrielle's side. "Statistically unlikely isn't a Gryffindor thing to say."

Hermione shrugs at him, skewering a potato in her fork. "It's perfectly possible to be brave and know what a bell curve is," she tells him. This subject seems old by now, just another proof of the way their school houses stay with them, causing certain expectations depending of what an old hat decided when you were eleven. It's tiresome.

"What I'd like to know," Neville says, his eyes on her across the table, "is who wrote the song. Because it can't have been George." It's a change of subject, and Hermione gives him an upwards twist of her lips. She suspects he's as tired of his traits being compared to the house values as she is.

Nobody knows the answer to Neville's question, and the venue is too magically saturated for phones to work properly. Hermione makes a mental note to ask George later. He'd clearly tweaked some things to suit Ginny and Harry, and she'd like to hear the original.

.oOo.

A good thing, Kakashi's noticing, is that with the sheer amount of people busy catching up with each other, he isn't expected to contribute much to discussions. That he's not magical helps too, given the way they throw around names and spells and concepts he's never heard of. Someone else might have problems with that, with how much it leaves him on the outside, but to Kakashi it's mitigating the awkwardness rather than worsening it.

Not that people don't strike up conversations with him every now and then. He's news after all, and the more alcohol people has had, the more unashamedly curious they become. They also get easier to side-track, making it alright. This is not his scene, he doesn't know the rules here, but it's also a window into Hermione's life. She grew up around these people, is partly fostered by the way they think and act, and that makes them fascinating in their own right. It's very hard not to wonder what it must have been like to be thrown into this at age eleven, with little guidance and no way to back out.

He's made it past dinner and is sitting now with Hermione and a bunch of her old classmates at one of the remaining tables. It's all well-worn stories from school, easy laughter, and a complete avoidance of anything not light and funny. Kakashi can respect that. Watching their dynamics is interesting; who gets to speak, who chooses to stay silent, who laughs a little too loud. For all that Kakashi sucks at dealing with emotion and has an awful track record when it comes to building relationships with people, he does know how to read a group. It's crucial to have a sense of those things to work in a team, and to quickly evaluate an opposing one.

After seeing Harry and Ginny greeting him like someone they know, and after being friendly with Neville over dinner, this group has decided he's part of them. That he's here with Hermione, and that Luna's been coming and going at his side throughout the event clearly matters less. The five of them where all driving forces in the war, Kakashi knows, along with Ron, but some people's opinions weight more than other's. Now he knows who they are here.

A story about something called a portable swamp is being told, when the music switches and everyone is getting to their feet. Screaming. There are some things about partying Kakashi has never understood – first and foremost why it's supposed to be fun – and the sheer volume of people is one of them. He watches as Hermione twitches to move, how she opens her mouth to try and drag him with her, and decides to forego the whole discussion. "Go," he says, making a shooing motion.

"You sure?" Hermione doesn't look at the table's only other remaining occupant. Kakashi raises an eyebrow, daring her to say she doesn't think he can take care of himself. She huffs and shakes her head, but smiles.

"Come on," the girl next to Hermione begins dragging her away from the table. "Your boyfriend will be fine."

"He's not my boyfriend," Kakashi hears her protest as she gives in and comes along.

Kakashi sits silently as Hermione is swept away, a huge smile on her face as she bounces up to her friends on the dancefloor. Two chairs away Ron fidgets. All the other tables are empty and Kakashi fully expects him to stand up and go to the bathroom, or the bar, or anywhere that's not here, but he doesn't. Almost a full minute pass before Ron clears his throat.

"So," he says, "I heard from Harry and Gin' you thought them how to throw knives?"

Turning only his head, body still facing the dancefloor, Kakashi answers the question. "Yes." He knows he will never respect Ron, isn't interested to get to know him, but he does want to know where this is going. Not that he plans on making it easy for the other man.

"And you're in the military?" Ron crosses his arms over his chest. Kakashi gives him a slow nod, his face carefully set to neutral. "But Japan hasn't done much real fighting since the second muggle world war, right?"

"Not much, no," Kakashi agrees. He has read up on the subject, for obvious reasons, and apparently so has Ron. Which tells Kakashi all he needs to know. This conversation is getting better by the second.

"Most of us's been to war together, you know," Ron says casually. Kakashi raises an eyebrow in question, waiting to see where this will lead. "It really gives you a special relationship; there's nothing quite like fighting for your lives together."

Because he's trained better than that, Kakashi doesn't laugh. Instead, he folds his eyes into a smile and blinks slowly. He doesn't know exactly what Ron's hoping to achieve with this, but he guesses he's meant to either be impressed or feel left out. "I can imagine," he answers, not lightly but not all the way dry either. Let Ron take it how he wants; Kakashi doesn't need to measure himself against this man.

"Did some years as an auror after that, to help hunt down the rest of the dark wizards. It was pretty brutal, to tell you the truth, but we were needed." Ron nods solemnly, then arranges his face into a grim smile.

Kakashi can't help but wonder if this is about intimidation, rather than exclusion or boasting. For all he knows civilian are cowed this easily, and Ron with his research and poorly worded question has clearly come to the conclusion Kakashi's career has been academical. If Kakashi was inclined to disprove him it'd be easy to ask how much blood Ron has on his hands. Kakashi has no doubt they're very clean compared to his. But he doesn't particularly want to talk about that, and he feels no need to defend himself. Placing an elbow against the table and leaning his chin against his hand, Kakashi waits for Ron to continue.

"Eventually, of course, we'd rounded up everyone with ties to Voldemort. It got a bit boring after that, so I joined George at the shop instead. Never a dull day there." There's tension in the line of Ron's shoulders, his jaw clenched shut a little too tight. Kakashi smiles at him.

"Good for you," he tells Ron, and he can see how his lack of reaction irks the man. Kakashi's been playing this game for years, casual and laidback are his strongest defences. When fighting is off the table, that is.

Ron fails to say anything else and Kakashi turns back to the dancefloor. Hermione is glancing his way every now and then but before she can do anything Luna comes twirling through the room. "Kakashi," she says as she stops by the table, "we're doing Limbo in the kitchen, will you join us?"

"Limbo?" he asks her, raising an eyebrow.

Luna smiles, her hands and head still moving with the music. "It's a game, sort of. You'll like it, I think."

"And you base this on what, exactly?" Kakashi asks. While standing up, because what does he have to lose? The current company seems unlikely to give more entertainment.

.oOo.

Hermione's sweaty and winded, her feet hurting from wearing heels and her makeup probably forming dark semicircles beneath her eyes. The charm she used this morning to make it stick is meant to be reapplied every four hours, but she stopped bothering after dinner. Dropping into the newly vacated seat at Ginny's side she nicks the girl's glass and smell its contents. Water. Perfect.

"Thank you, Mrs Potter," Hermione says raising the glass, before emptying it. With all the guests it's been impossible to get a minute with the bride or groom all day, and Hermione needs a break from the dancefloor. "How are you?" she continues as Ginny stretches across the table for another glass. Probably Harry's. "Has it sunken in yet?"

"Not at all," Ginny laughs, happy and relaxed, then zooms in on Hermione. "But that's not what you came for," her smile remains even with the narrowed eyes, and she leans closer "you want the gossip, right?"

"It actually wasn't first on my mind, but now that you brought it up…" Hermione caught only the end of it; Neehma leaving, then Harry, and (after a word from Ginny) Ron. It hadn't been the reason she came over, but if freely offered she's not about to turn it down.

"My idiot brother must have gone head to head with Kakashi, somehow," Ginny says. Hermione's stomach twists. She did leave them alone after all, Kakashi telling her to wasn't enough of an excuse really. He'd seemed fine, whenever she looked over, and then Luna had dragged him off, but… She takes a breath. Kakashi's a grown-up. He knows how to socialize. Sort of. And where to find her. It's alright. Probably. "Oh, quit worrying," Ginny shoves Hermione in the shoulder. "Ron only has himself to blame and last I saw Kakashi he was fighting for the title as Limbo champion. He looked fine."

"Now, back to the point." Ginny dons her best gossiping face, clearly looking forward to share whatever just took place. "I love my brother, alright, but he's being his regular daft, petty self; sitting here grumbling about Kakashi. It was all rather funny actually, because it was so stupid, but then he goes on to say something about wearing Slytherin green and how they are all lying, cheating snakes, and how having a scar across your face doesn't make you cool, it's just ugly."

Hermione fails to swallow the water properly. "Isn't Neehma?" she gets out between coughing.

"Yep," Ginny says, nodding.

"And Harry?" Hermione manages a full inhalation. She can feel her eyebrows halfway up her forehead.

"Yep." Ginny nods again.

Half laughing, half grimacing with her face hidden by her hands, Hermione shakes her head. "What was he thinking?" she says, hearing her voice is several notes higher than usual. She's not surprised, not really, but at the same time she can't believe he put his foot that far down his mouth. It might be a record.

"He wasn't, I recon," Ginny answers, her grin and eyes wide. "Which I told him, right before I told him if he didn't make it right with Harry I'd string him up by his ankles outside the shop, in only his underwear, on a school holiday."

.oOo.

The crowd is starting to thin out, and Kakashi's hoping that'll mean they're going home soon. If he mentioned anything of the sort, he knows Hermione would leave, so he doesn't. Throughout the evening she's checked in with him regularly, and every time he's assured her he's fine. He can manage a night of awkwardly socializing with magical civilian strangers if it means her enjoying herself freely. She looks happy like this, fooling around on the dancefloor in something that's a complicated game of tag involving two people holding a rope and trying to bunch dancers together, and Kakashi's perfectly content to stay leaning against the wall. Dancing is not his thing. It requires a kind of unchecked silliness that he has no idea when he was meant to pick up.

Tiredness is seeping in, and Kakashi would rather stand here alone, but he's joined by a guy he's been introduced to but can't recall the name of. With everyone remembering Kakashi's name, he refrains from asking. A beer is dangling loosely from his fingertips and hints of blood shoot trough his eyes.

"I'd stop that if I were you," he says, skidding a bit on the letters. "You know, one guy to another."

"Stop what?" Kakashi asks, not turning away from the dancefloor. He entertains the idea of walking away but doesn't know where to.

"Your girl, dancing with Lee." A glance shows the stranger nodding. Kakashi finds he can't not answer.

"She's not my girl," he says, for the sake of it, before getting to the point. "But even if she was, she could dance with whomever she wants." That kind of jealousy is something Kakashi's watched from time to time but has a hard time understanding. Sure, he's never been there, has never understood why people acts like all of it is such a big deal. Maybe it is, and he missed something.

"Sure," the guy waves his bear around, "absolutely." He takes a sip. "Only that's Lee, you know, you shouldn't trust him." At this point his chin is almost on top of Kakashi's shoulder. Which is a bit much. "He's been with, like, everyone."

Kakashi uses two fingertips against a sweaty forehead to push him back and curbs the urge to wipe his hand on his pants. It would look rude. "Maa," he says, keeping his tone disinterested even as he wants to drive his fist into the other's solar plexus. He chooses not to argue the specifics of his relationship with Hermione, but what's stated. "I don't need to trust him, do I?" he asks without waiting for an answer. "Since I trust her. Unless you're saying he forces himself on people, in which case I'm not who you should be talking to."

"No, no, no," the man backpedals, both verbally and physically. "Nothing like that. He's just a player."

Showing his hands into his pockets, Kakashi turns back to the dancefloor without answering. It takes a few seconds, but then the man mutters something illegible and wanders off to bother someone else. Kakashi exhales. Out on the floor Lee twirls Hermione around before dipping her back with the end of the song. They're both laughing, and Kakashi allows himself a small smile at the sheer gracelessness they manage.

Hopefully, Hermione will never let anyone own her, or dictate what she can do or who she can dance with. She's having fun with an old friend, and Kakashi has no need to put that against his relationship with her. They're not like that, so technically she could do what she wants with whoever she wants, but Kakashi knows she won't abandon him here to get home on his own. No matter what. Any issues of hers doesn't even factor in.

Another, slower, song comes on and Hermione waltzes over to Kakashi's side. She's loose and smiling, hooking her arm into his. "Time to go home?" she asks. Kakashi opens his mouth to tell her it's okay, they can stay, but she cuts him off. "Trust me," she says, "it'll go downhill from here." Using her free hand, she tries to smooth the escaped strands of hair out of her face. It fails. It's still odd to see her in a dress and heels, but like this, with makeup smudged around her eyes and curls sticking out from her hairdo, she's relaxed back into herself again. Most people have lost their flair as the night has worn on, but Hermione has somehow gained more of it.

"I'll take your word for it," Kakashi tells her, rather than saying he can't wait. If he has to small talk with one more person tonight, he might resort to violence.

"I heard," Hermione says as they set out to find Harry and Ginny to say their goodbyes, "that it's your fault half of the Ravenclaws have spent hours arguing over how many tennis balls would fit in this room?" She sounds entertained more than anything else, and Kakashi finds himself smiling sheepishly.

"I had to say something," he admits, "and I was getting tired of the whole so-what-do-you-do-thing everyone persists on bringing up."

Hermione drops her forehead against Kakashi's shoulder as she laughs, letting him navigate the room for them both. "So," she says when she looks up, "what other topics have you discussed tonight?"

"Nothing much," Kakashi answers with a shrug and an innocent smile, knowing she'll laugh, "what useless talents people have, psychics winning the lottery, strange things to eat, that sort of things."

He was right.

.oOo.

It's funny, Hermione thinks, how somehow apparition has changed everything in her life, and nothing at all. When minutes is too big a unit to measure the time it takes to get home, the mood of the party should really follow her to the kitchen. At the very least. Preferably all the way to bed.

Maybe it's about distance though, not time, and that's why it's harder to be happy in the laundry room than it was at the apparition point. Or it's not about that at all, but about her and her stupid brain. Either way, she knows this feeling, and has still failed to foresee it. With it happening more times than not, she should have. It's been hanging on the edge of conscious thought all evening, after all.

It's hard not to hate how her brain must come in and ruin everything. Or is that her emotions? She doesn't even know what causes what anymore. Not when it's only a few days since she first realized maybe she hasn't been all head and no heart like she thought.

Either way, Hermione's never managed to go straight to bed coming home for a party. She needs to wind down and eat something so she can sleep in without waking from starvation at eight o'clock. Small talking while making sandwiches goes on autopilot, even without her honest attention. She feels horrible now, for leaving Kakashi to fend for himself while she was dancing, and it doesn't matter that she asked several times, or that he said she should. It's something to project the anxiety on, whatever her logical side thinks about it.

"What about you?" Kakashi asks as they sit down at the kitchen table, the chairs scraping loudly against the floor. "Did you have a good day?" And okay, she might have focused a bit on his evening, asking questions and steering the conversation his way. Anything to think less of herself.

Smiling at her sandwich, Hermione wonders where her hunger went. "I did," she says.

"But?"

To avoid having to answer she bites into the bread; the good kind, buttered and with cheese that taste something as opposed to the boring one she's had in Iceland. It grows in her mouth, turning into a heavy mass that she forces herself to swallow piece by piece. Hermione rinse the last bit down with a mouthful of scalding tea, and grasps for a way to start. "I don't know," she says, only to fall back into silence. The feel of Kakashi watching her makes her turn her head down, only glancing up when the silence gets too thick to stand. "Do you want that?" she asks. It's not a very clear question, she knows this even before Kakashi cocks his head and tilts his eyebrows in question. It's not an answer to his question either, but she'll get there. Eventually. "The whole wedding thing," she clarifies "white picket fence, kids."

Unable to hold Kakashi's gaze, Hermione shrugs and looks away. Her parents have hideous pictures on the kitchen walls, some kind of nineties posters with still-lifes of grapes. They've hung there for as long as she can remember, and while most of the house has been modernized, the kitchen has remained. She's avoiding the subject she knows. Doesn't particularly want to put it into words, even in her own mind.

"I don't know," Kakashi answers, his eyes narrowed in thought as she meets them. Not for more than a second, because she can't stand that right now, but she tries to keep turned to his face. At least while he's talking. "I never really thought about it," he says.

Asking about that is tempting. Very, very, tempting. Not only would it derail the conversation, but it also genuinely makes Hermione wonder. There are so many things unsaid in Kakashi's voice, in the way his hand turns halfway to his mouth to put his sandwich back down instead of taking a bite. Behind the book it's harder to read him than under the mask, but not impossible. Knowing what she does about his culture, combining it's view of mental health with what she's heard of the relationships people seem to have, she can see that choosing to live with someone might only be an added pressure. It makes Hermione wonder about the books he read, and it aches in the place her own loneliness sits. Better to be lonely alone though, than in a relationship. That much is for certain.

"I do," Hermione tells him, instead of pushing for things he might not want to talk about. Her feeling bad and wishing to avoid a subject doesn't have to affect anyone else. And also; she sort of wants to tell him. This small piece, at least. Her mind is feeling jumbled. "And I love seeing my friends getting their happily-ever-afters, but it also hurts because it reminds me I won't ever have that. I'm just so fucking broken that I can't. I'm not able to be in a romantic relationship because it comes with certain things and I've hardwired those things to feelings of anxiety and guilt and inadequacy, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Because I am defective. So that's the but. Overall, I had an amazing night, but now I'm slowing down enough for my thoughts to catch up and that's brutal."

Hermione snaps her mouth shut. That was far more than the part she meant to share. She was supposed to stop after the thing about her not being able to have a romantic relationship.

This is not something she can talk about.

How could she?

Shit, she's really stepped in it now. She can't heave things like that out. Now what? It's not the kind of thing she can talk to Kakashi about. Or anyone. But especially not a guy.

She could oblivate him. Maybe. Take it back. If he lets her.

A hand shows up through the grey spots. Oh. Grey spots. Not good. Deep breath. Kakashi slowly places a finger under her chin, lifting her head up. Hermione keeps her gaze on his wrist. "I'd like you to look at me," he says, voice calm. Almost distant. It's not a demand, not even a question, and because of that Hermione steels herself for the space of an inhale, then follows his request. The book is gone; the set of his chin under the mask and the furrow between his eyes at odds with his composed tone. "No matter what happened," he says, and Hermione knows he took that short exchange on the bed weeks ago to heart, has seen it in the way he's changed a lot of little things, but she's been avoiding thinking about what that means, what he took with him from her confession then, "you are not defective."

It's impossible to keep meeting his eyes after that. The fingers withdraw as Hermione turns her face away. She swallows, fighting to keep her breathing stable. "You know nothing about it," she gets out.

"I don't," Kakashi's words are slow, careful almost and Hermione wonders what's on his face but doesn't dare to find out, "and you don't have to tell me. But whatever it was and whatever it did, it didn't make you defective. That's not…" he trails off, and Hermione guesses he's shaking his head, or shrugging maybe. Something.

"That's how it feels." Hermione glances at the collar of his shirt. Sees his Adam's apple move as he swallows. It's a little unclear if she's winning the fight to not cry, or losing the one to at least be able to do that. Given her parched throat she might not have the fluids to produce tears. That could explain it.

"I know," Kakashi says. She believes him

The kitchen falls silent but for the ticking of the clock and the hum of the refrigerator. Kakashi's left his hand out across the table, and Hermione can't decide if she wants to take it or not. To get away from the decision she closes her eyes. Wraps her arms tightly around herself.

Kakashi won't ask. They've touched on this once, weeks ago, and she said she couldn't talk about it. Apparently he intends to honour that. Only, he does sort of know, in a way, doesn't he? At least the topic, and it feels a little bit silly that she can talk about anxiety and depression without batting an eye but can't even think the word sex without cringing. She's a grown up, she's been joking about it with her friends for years, but that's different. That's not about her, or about… well.

These kinds of things are possibly mentioned in an all-female setting, but even then it's more about who wants who, or what, or other things that only makes Hermione fear she'll be expected to share. Either way, it's clearly not a topic to discuss with male friends, not as a straight woman. It simply isn't. It could imply things. Destroy things. Make them awkward in a way that can't be undone.

It could also be… good. Reduce the weight on her chest a little bit.

Hermione breathes. Tries to tell her heart to slow down, push her pulse back into her chest. Kakashi already knows much. She's let him in on him more of her current self than anyone else, but this is different. There's no anger or reasoning to protect her here; only shame and guilt and the overwhelming sense of being damaged beyond repair.

The clock is still ticking out seconds, a testament to how none of this matters to the world in general. To her, it fills the universe. Hermione gnaws on the inside of her cheek. Comes to a decision.

"You know, I…" Hermione hesitates. Some words are hard to say out loud, is all. Although she should be able to keep it implied; Kakashi's smart, he'll fill out the blanks. She starts over. "It never used to be a big deal for me," she says, "not like it is for most people. Then I met Ron, and we were the first real partners either of us had had, and things worked. Everything was good. Until we decided to, you know," Hermione clears her throat, feeling the blush heat her face, "go all the way. I… it turned out… it didn't go so well, okay? I started getting these yeast infections, and… I tried to get help, I went to a several doctors and they all basically told me others had it worse. As if that ever helped anyone."

Daring a glance in Kakashi's direction Hermione catches the angle of his head, the sharpness in his eyes, the way his elbows rest against the edge of the table. He doesn't seem to be freaking out too severely. Following the grain of the wooden tabletop with a finger, Hermione allows herself exactly one breath. God, she shouldn't have said 'yeast infection', it's not like anyone wants to know that. Talk about oversharing. She'll never be able to look at Kakashi properly again. Breath's running out: Get back to it. It's not like it can get more awkward at this point. Hopefully. Either way she's started now, might as well get it over with.

"It became a vicious circle," she tells the table. "Me feeling incapable when I couldn't, and wanting to do it for real, and pushing myself to be able to, and… It got really, really ugly, okay? I'd be so disappointed in myself, hating my brain for getting in between everything and my body for not working, up until the point where I couldn't even begin to think about it, much less do something, without getting anxious enough to just curl up and cry. But I wanted to function, to be a real partner, so I kept trying and I…" she's running out of air Forces an inhalation down before plodding on. If she stops long enough to think now, she'll freak out.

"Ron was, supportive, sort of. He was all 'we're gonna fix this' and 'I can wait' and 'don't worry', but he also, I don't know. He really wanted it, I guess, and he kept saying I was worth waiting for, but that only made the pressure worse, in a way. I mean, he even refused to do anything without me, saying he didn't want to. Only, I knew he had, you know, drive, and that made me feel a thousand times worse. He really, really wanted it, and I loved him so I wanted him to have it." Rubbing a hand over her mouth, Hermione swallows before continuing." It disgusts me now," she admits, voice losing its strength, "that part in particular, but I couldn't see how fucked up it was at the time. I was too busy feeling worthless. And I mean, I wanted to want it too, for my own sake, it wasn't like it was all for him, don't think that. It wasn't like that, but…" she shrugs, not knowing where she was meaning to go. Her steam's running out.

"Either way, now it's like, I don't have any want left, not that I had a lot to lose." Hermione never did reach that phase where she gossiped about boys and dreamed of kissing them and whatnot. Sometimes it seemed like it was all her Hogwarts dormmates did. Her mother used to tell her it'd sort itself out when she met the right guy, and it had for a while with Ron. Before, well, everything. It didn't leave her with much of a baseline, however, going from not really interested to newly in love to completely messed up. There's no way to explain that to Kakashi though, not that she can think of. "Now, if anything so much as remotely reminds me of a situation that might get intimate, I… Well, you've seen that," she says instead, wanting to get this over with. "And that was hardly on the scale."

Hermione wishes her hair wasn't fastened up in a neat wedding hairdo, spelled to stay in shape. She wants to entangle her hands in the curly strands and hang her head down. Feel the sting on her scalp and be able to hide her face. There's no way she's taking out her wand to fix it now, however. She crosses her arms on the table instead, laying her head down on them.

"I'm damaged," she admits. Which is not according to plan. She still goes on. Is unable to do anything else. It's like she's built up enough speed at this point that it takes time to grind to a halt. "Or I feel like it, and I feel dysfunctional and broken and helpless and…" Shaking her head as much as is possible, Hermione squeezes her eyes shut. "And I did this to myself," she says, voice steadier than she thinks it has a right to be, "so I should be able to stop, right? Only I can't. And I broke Ron too, or this thing did, and I don't want to destroy anyone else. Or put myself in that position ever again; so I've come to realize I'll have to give up on the notion of romantic love, because I'll never be enough."

Moments tick by in silence. Hermione oscillating wildly between wishing she'd kept her mouth shut and a tired, almost hollow, relief at finally having it out there. Before her panic has a chance to take over completely she forces herself to turn her head up, chin digging into her arm as she looks at Kakashi properly for the first time since she started talking. He's wide eyed, a hand propping up his chin and covering most of his lower face as he blinks at her. "I…" he clears his throat. "There were a lot of things I wanted to say, but it seemed like I shouldn't interrupt you, and now I can't remember them." The hand moves from his chin to rub his temple. "Could I hug you?" he asks, "or is that?"

Hermione's stomach sinks. She hasn't cried this far, which is odd in itself, but her throat is painfully tight now. It's nice; that he cares. That he asks. But it's also devastating. She can't stand having him hesitate to touch her or worry about hurting her. Nothing is worse than having someone tiptoe around her, making her feel brittle and anxious. Like an allergy, triggering every single one of her self-doubts.

"Can we pretend this is any other subject?" Hermione tells him, managing to keep it a request. "Because I don't want you to be scared of me. Or for me, or whatever. Just… I'm not any different than I've been all along." The difference is he knows now. Her deepest, darkest, most shameful secret. The one she's never even come close to telling anyone but doctors about, and they all patted her on the head and told her not to worry.

Kakashi's on his feet and halfway around the table before Hermione starts to stand. Not because he's moving particularly fast, but because there's an emptiness spreading through her body, making her hesitant to trust her legs. He's out of his jacket, and she leans her forehead on the shoulder of his shirt knowing she might leave make-up stains. Hopefully they'll come out; it's a nice shirt. Arms wrap firmly around her. The smell of new fabric, warmth and security seeps in with the air she breathes, and she leans into Kakashi. Lets him keep track of how to remain upright.

She should cry, but can't. It's unfair. She could use a good cry right about now. If she dared, she'd straighten out her neck, turn her head to the side, and burrow her face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry." Kakashi's voice is low. Hermione can't tell if he's talking about his reaction of her history. "You shouldn't," he cuts himself off. Takes a breath. "I wish you didn't have to feel like that." Hermione's lips twitch in an emotionless smile at his correction. "Can I ask," he continues, "about some of it? You wouldn't have to answer."

The nod Hermione gives is not without reluctance, but it's needed, she thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that.

"What is it that you want?" Kakashi asks. "From a romantic relationship I mean?"

Hermione doesn't know what question she was expecting, but it wasn't this one. She allows herself a few seconds to collect her thoughts. "I," she turns her head a little, letting her voice come out clear of Kakashi's shoulder. "I guess intimacy?" she says, glad that their position means she can't see his face. "Like, having someone to share my life with, through better and through worse. To be that special someone. But also closeness. All the little touches, kisses, hugs, sleeping next to someone." Hearing how it sounds, Hermione cuts herself off. Feels her cheeks heat up and hopes he can't feel it through his clothes. Maybe not continuing makes it worse – not mentioning how she misses being allowed to trail her fingers over smooth skin, to not worry about watching someone, to be caressed – but it could also be seen as an imploration. She'd rather have him catch the likeness of what they have, than have him think she covets more from him.

"I didn't think those things were the problem?" Kakashi points out, a slowness to his voice giving away how carefully he measures his words. "Or do you mean them like…?" They're both very good at not mentioning things by word here, Hermione thinks.

"No. I… they're not, not really, unless it triggers the anxiety. But they sort of go together, you know?" She wishes they didn't, but the world never cared a lot about her wishes. Besides, it's not like dating is doable like this. How would she swing that? At what point do you tell someone you can't have any kind of sex?

Kakashi shrugs. "Not really," he says. Hermione's unsure which part he even answered, him knowing or them going together, or both. Asking is tempting, but she also wants to know where he's going with this.

"Sure," she says instead, feeling curiously detached from the whole thing "ideally there might be someone who'd be willing to stand that, and live with jerking off in the shower or whatever, but I don't think I could. I'd hate myself, and be terrified of breaking them, and feel horribly inadequate. I'm damaged enough as it is, no need to add to it."

She fully expects a reprimand, probably a poke, but none come. "Are people like that for real?" Kakashi asks instead, something in his tone that Hermione can't decipher without seeing his face. "I mean, they obviously have sex, there are children, but you say 'live with jerking of in the shower' as if they couldn't just go without?"

Hermione is getting the feeling she'll need to revisit this conversation, and Kakashi's reactions, when her mind is clearer. "Well," she answers for now, not bothering to try and make complete sense of it, "it is a biological drive. It's not like I want someone to be self-sacrificing and passive aggressively punishing me through themselves ever again." Hearing herself say it make her see how true it is. How Ron was punishing far more than he supported, at least towards the end. "In any areas," she adds, because the behaviour spanned a wide range of things.

"But that's," Kakashi hesitates, the oddness in his voice mingled with thoughtfulness, "mostly talk, right? Some people clearly enjoy it more than others, but that's it." It's not formulated as a question, but it's there none the less, if you look for it.

"Eh, no?" Hermione tells him. She knows he hasn't had any friends that he's really talked to. Not for real. But this still feels like the kind of thing he should have picked up. The guy's hooked on romance novels for Merlin's sake. "People do get turned on and stuff," she continues, daring to say the words when it's not specifically about her anymore. "Sex sells for a reason." Or so she'd been told; she just isn't one for exploitation of bodies. Or casual sex. But that was more about her unyielding logical mind overruling her emotions, and the fact that she was a bit uptight and never let loose.

Kakashi hums thoughtfully but says nothing more on the subject. Hermione's feet are hurting. She wants to go to bed and forget this night ever happened but that'd mean she'd have to stand on her own. And face Kakashi. She's not sure she's ready for that. "Is it unfair of me to hate Ron a little bit?" he asks when the silence is getting loud. "As well as those doctors?"

"Maybe," she answers, turning her head a bit to see the line of his cheekbone under the mask. Kakashi angles his head, allowing their eyes to meet for a moment. "But I'm not sure I can blame you." Hermione sighs. "At least not about the doctors. I wonder sometimes how things would be if just one of them would have listened and taken me seriously. When it could still have been turned around."

"You tried talking to your therapist?" Kakashi shifts slightly, and Hermione takes the given opportunity to change sides before she gets a wry neck. "Or someone? He adds when Hermione doesn't answer straight away.

"For a long time," Hermione says, trying to figure out the answer as she goes, "I told myself that if the physical bit just got fixed it would all go away. And by the time enough gynaecologist had turned me down that I'd lost all hope I… couldn't, I guess. It had grown too big. I don't think I could have put words to it, and it's not," she searches for words. Fails to find the right one. "A subject," she settles on. "That I think I'll ever feel comfortable talking to anyone about. It doesn't matter that I told her about the war and that she guided me through that and depressions and whatever. This is different." As she says it, she knows why that is, even without having thought much about it before. The war was never her fault, nor anything that happened due to it. Not that she can imagine admitting that out loud.

"You told me." Kakashi's voice is off, a weird mix between thick and light. Hermione can't help but smile a little into his chest hearing it.

"That's different too," she tells him. As if he didn't already know that. With him, it's been small steps and bigger revelations and all of it tangled together by the natural intimacy of sharing so much time together. Not a limited hour once a week that you had to be able to somewhat function and walk away after.

"I wish I had something smart to say about it," Kakashi's chest heaves in a quiet sigh, "but it's not my area of expertise, is it?"

"Maa," Hermione tells him, "you're doing fine." The raw gaping hole her confession left behind hasn't vanished, but the side of it that is closest to Kakashi is feeling less desolate.

"I guess I'm learning." Kakashi leans his head back to study the ceiling before peering down at her. "But not what I meant," he says, loosing some of his casualness. "Relationships, intimacy, all that stuff, I can't give any advice about that. So, I might be different but I'm probably not your best choice."

"You are though. Without a doubt." Not only because her other choices are either close friends of Ron's, Luna, or her mother; Kakashi's been earning that spot for his own merits for quite some time now. The way his lips turns upward is easily visible through the mask from this distance, and with all the training Hermione's got on catching it. On her shoulder blade a hand is pressed in tighter, enlarging the point of contact to include the palm. She gives in to her earlier wish and burrows her face against the side of his neck, pressing her itching eyelids against the cool fabric of his mask.

This time, the silence that falls is calming, accentuating how tired Hermione is. It's the middle of the night, and this day's been a rollercoaster. She's not sure she wants to know how much of her weight Kakashi is taking. "It feels so stupid that I can't cry," she tells him. "I thought I'd cry. I'd need that." It feels wrong to have been somewhat composed through all this. Like that means it matters less.

Kakashi's throat vibrates with his hum. A thoughtful one, Hermione thinks. "Some things are too shattering, I believe," he says. "At least when faced head on." If Hermione's snort is derisive, it's meant only towards herself.

"Maybe," she agrees. "Although what does that say about me? Torture and war and whatever; I can deal with that. The idea of being incapable to want to have sex; breaks me completely." She feels shallow and self-centred saying it, even more so since it's something she did to herself and should be able to fix.

"That's not what it sounded like to me." There's something in the way Kakashi says it that makes Hermione decide it's safest not to look up to see what's on his face.

"No?" she asks, unsure if she wants to hear the answer, but unable to keep her mouth shut.

In the pause before he speaks, Hermione feels Kakashi's heart beat against her ribcage. It's steady and calm. "No," he finally says, dragging the word out. "It sounded like the problem is you are sure everyone else does, and that because of that you'll die alone. Which you don't want; but if the choice is between disliking yourself alone or in a relationship, you'd rather not take the guilt of the latter. Especially since you're convinced you'll destroy your partner. So no, I don't think it is the sex, I think it's too bad to cry over because you believe it makes you undeserving of love."

That's… Hermione lifts her head, bends back enough to break the contact from her stomach and up. Stares at Kakashi. Tries to come up with a way to answer.

"What?" he asks, his eyebrows twitching together with the question.

Hermione opens her mouth. Closes it again. He's not wrong, not at all. It's just… Yeah, okay. Maybe that's one way to put it that makes her feel sadder, but also less ridiculous for thinking this is a big deal. "Didn't you say you didn't know anything about this?" she finally gets out. It's not at all what she wants to say, but it's what she manages. It's a start.

Kakashi's eyes folds into a smile, the way they do when he's about to say something dryly amusing. "I don't know anything about relationships and all that," he says, and it is easy-going enough to separate his words from their meaning. "Avoiding it to keep everyone involved protected? Right up my alley."

A laugh rises in Hermione's belly. It's not proper exactly, but he's telling it as a joke and this is all completely fucked up. Since when is it okay to say things like that? To put words to Hermione's feelings like they're actually valid? The first chuckle climbs up her chest through her throat, and she's about to smile, to let it out. This whole thing is too ridiculous. She never saw it go like this. Only the boiling feeling pass through her mouth and falls from her lips, not a chuckle at all, but a sob.