It made Hermione feel warm inside to stick her head out the front door and spy them sitting there sipping at beers and talking shit in that mixture of insults and light banter the three seemed to use to communicate. None of them would admit to it, but they were undeniably becoming friends of a sort, and that, more than anything else, made Hermione happy. Like everything in her life was slotting into place, although not necessarily where or how she had expected, or hoped.