The words had left Hermione’s lips before she had really thought about it. She was simply sitting in his lounge room reading a book, when she began to notice all the signs of her newfound domesticity about her. Her shoes were collected neatly in the shoe rack by the floo. Her favourite cup was sitting on the drying rack waiting to be put into its spot in the cupboard. The blanket wrapped around her legs was her grandmother's and several of her favourite books were sitting on the bookshelf in the corner.