"You should eat something," her mother tells her softly.
Hermione is too engulfed in the book she's reading to even bother looking up. She has known how to read for three years now, and challenged herself ever since that she would read all the books in her parent's library.
Her mother lays a plate with a couple of pieces of toast and a glass of milk on the small table next to her and silently retreats back. When she reaches the door, thinking Hermione didn't even acknowledge her presence in her room, she hears her mutter a quiet 'thank you mum' and it warms her heart.
An hour later, she finds Hermione curled up in a ball, asleep with the book she has apparently finished still clutched in her hands. The glass of milk is empty and there is half a piece of toast left on the plate. She smiles, taking in her daughter's determination to fill herself up with knowledge and for a faint moment, she is afraid that Hermione is too smart for her own good. But as the child sighs in her sleep, she is transported back to the day she brought her baby home for the first time. That night, she read to her for the first time, the first of many bedtime stories, and even then, the baby didn't close her eyes until she had reached 'the end'.
...
"You should eat something." Her father nudges her gently as she plays with her scrambled eggs, her stomach tied up in knots. "We're going to be late to the train station."
"What if I don't make friends? What if they think I'm not good enough?" she asks with a small voice that reminds him too painfully of him as a little boy, afraid of the world around him.
He hates that she's going away so young, that she's leaving for a world he knows nothing about and cannot share with her, but he's thrilled to witness her growing up, even though she'll always be his little girl. He will miss her, terribly, but he gives her the best answer he can, the one she needs to hear.
"Hermione, you'll be brilliant."
...
"You should eat something."
Ginny startles her, a distinct contrast with the quietness of the library. She has brought her a couple of cookies and lays them on the table in front of her that is covered with books.
"And see the sun!" she adds half jokingly.
When Hermione doesn't reply, Ginny nudges her a little farther.
"Hermione," she says sternly, "you can't lock yourself in the library and pretend that nothing is happening, that they aren't off snogging somewhere in the castle."
The 15 years old redhead worries about her and she sees the pain flash quickly across Hermione's eyes before she manages to compose herself, back straight, shoulders thrown back and chin high.
"I'm fine," she finally says a little too forcefully. "Thank you for the food, Ginny. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an essay to write."
She's ignoring the elephant in the room, and 'it's not the first time Ginny has tried to make her talk. She doesn't push it further; Hermione can be bloody stubborn when she decides to.
Before she leaves though, Ginny can't help the words that escape from her mouth.
"My brother is an idiot."
This time, it takes Hermione longer to regain composure and before she does, she throws Ginny a grateful smile.
...
"You should eat something."
It is the first words Harry has spoken to her that day despite the fact that they have been up and packing to move yet again for the last couple hours.
She feels hollow and numb. She is certain she will be unable to keep any food down. She doesn't want to leave this place, she doesn't want to run anymore, she is tired. Doubt and fear are constantly tying up knots in her stomach, and with the events of the previous night she cannot even think straight.
What if he tries to come back? What if he gets hurt and she isn't there to put him back together? Would it be so bad for them to stay just a little bit longer in this spot?
Rationally she knows they ought to stay on the move. She didn't recognize the bitter man she saw the night before and this thought may be the scariest thing she has experienced so far. Ron has been her constant. Always there pushing her boundaries. A solid figure next to her, a boy with hand-me-down robes and a crooked grin, who turned into a man she very much wants to survive this war for.
Or she thought so.
It is with a heavy heart and an empty stomach that she lets Harry grab her hand and Disapparate them away from the last place they have been three.
She cannot think.
...
"You should eat something."
McGonagall's voice resonates within the walls of the empty classroom that the three of them were sent to rest in after everything was over, after they had won.
Harry and Ron are asleep on make-shift beds made from transfigured desks, but she is sitting against the wall next to Ron. She can't stop her brain from trying to process everything. Suddenly, all she can do is think.
Hermione looks up at the woman near the door, and even though they've just won a war and she has tears cascading down her face, reminiscing about the lives that were lost, she can't help the light blush creeping up her cheeks when she sees McGonagall's gaze lying on her hands that are gently stroking Ron's hair.
"I'm not hungry, thank you." Hermione answers hoarsely, turning her head back down towards Ron's, assuming the professor will turn around and leave.
"He's good for you."
She is startled. By McGonagall's voice, by the certainty of her declaration, by the truth of it.
She tries to find the words to convey everything she wants to to the woman standing in front of her, but finds words failing her and her body reacts faster than her mind and starts to shake. Tears roll down her face with a striking force, and she finally finds her voice.
"We're alive."
McGonagall is about to retort but this time, Hermione manages to elaborate before the older woman can reply.
"I... I never dreamed that... that all three of us... that we... we could all make it," she confesses quietly.
It is the teacher's turn to be lost for words. Instead, she takes a few steps towards the young girl, puts her hand over Hermione's, tangled in Ron's hair, and thanks her.
...
"You should eat something," Molly tells her knowingly, eyes sparkling blue, so much like Ron's.
"It actually helps with the morning sickness," she adds, suppressing a grin and pushing a plate of crackers towards Hermione.
Hermione looks at her frowning, taken aback by her mother-in-law's insight.
"He doesn't even know yet...I haven't told him. I wanted to be sure...how do you-" she stutters uneasily, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"Oh please, Hermione, I know you're the brightest witch of your age, but I bore seven children and witnessed them having children of their own. I think it's safe to say I actually know more than you about this!" Molly says, amusement now completely apparent in her eyes.
All Hermione can do is grin sheepishly at the woman in front of her and take one of the crackers she offered.
"It's just that it's been so hectic lately. Ron has been going on those longer missions and my work at the Ministry is very demanding. I don't know how we're going to deal with a baby."
Tears of incertitude fill up Hermione's eyes, and Molly grabs her hand strongly, words of reassurance ready to leave her lips - but before she can voice her absolute trust into Hermione and Ron's ability to be wonderful parents, Hermione continues, fighting back tears and a tenderness in her voice that Molly had yet to hear come from her daughter-in-law.
"But then I watch him take care of James and I just can't wait to see him with a child of our own."
...
"You should eat something," Ron tells her, stepping behind her, his arms lacing round her middle, and throwing her a tired smile that seems to never leave his face lately.
"I know. We should also both head back to bed while she is asleep, but on my way back, I took a peek outside the window in the kitchen and saw the sun rising. It was so beautiful," she sighs, turning into his embrace to face him, "I couldn't walk away."
Ron gazes down at her with an intensity that makes her knees go weak even after all those years, takes her hand and squeezes it lightly. When he speaks, voice deep and strong, she closes her eyes, and engraves the words leaving his mouth to her memory so she can keep them forever.
"I know the feeling."