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They came home soaked, so clammy Harry didn't even peek at anyone's bare hip as they changed clothes. They'd spent all day looking for glyphs, and even Hermione's Contrafluvius couldn't repel Scottish rain.
The drink Hermione fixed smelled of chocolate, with a hint of peppermint. After a swig he passed it to Ron, in a blanket beside him, feet tucked under Harry's thighs. Wordlessly Hermione curled into the end of the sofa, her head on Harry's lap.
A tap of a wand refilled the mug. Harry rubbed Ron's arches, Hermione dozed in his lap, and they stayed there until dark.