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[Everyone is. He looks away for a moment, studying the wall panels.]

It wasn't an easy transition, coming back here.

I don't think anyone expected it to be easy. [ She doesn't force him to look at her, just pours the tea without hesitation. She knows enough to give Erik some space. ] And as comforting as having your friends around might be I'm sure it was smothering, too.

[It's an unexpected comment, and it rings true. There's an uncomfortable few seconds of silence, before he turns back and takes his cup in hand.]

I was on my own before coming back here. It's what I had expected for the foreseeable future, so... it was difficult.

[ She understands, and she tilts her head back over to look at him. ]

Do you feel a little more adjusted now?

I have to be. [He sips at his tea, knowing that answer is maudlin. It's also the truth. He's here until he gets removed again. He has to adjust. The only other option is withdrawing from all contact, and that's not possible. Not least because a certain amount of people wouldn't allow it, but because he also doesn't truly wish to be alone like that for long.]

Not necessarily. You could pretend, I suppose, and say that you're fine and adjusted when you're not - I know certain people might not let you get away with anything else - but I don't know how healthy that is. [ She moves, sitting down opposite Erik before she breathes out. ] You don't have to magically be okay. You deserve to take as long as you need, I hope you know that.

[--he laughs, a short bark that's mostly without humour.]

What about being on a spaceship prison is healthy, Hermione? [Which isn't at all the point, he knows.]

The part where some people can see their friends again. Or the part where people can have a job, and a life, where they didn't before. It might be a prison, but if you spend your entire life thinking of it as just a prison then you're definitely going to struggle.

[ She frowns, staring down at her tea. ]

Being in worlds like this - it's not good. I know that, I've experienced it myself, and not just here. But if all we do is look for reasons to be miserable then we're damning ourselves, and what's the point in that?

[He can feel it, those 'reasons for being miserable' bottling up behind his throat and choking him. She doesn't know, any of it. Erik's fingers tighten around the cup and he stares hard at the table.]

It doesn't matter to me, being here. [Not so much as it used to. Everything he has is here.] I'm not missed back home. But it is what it is. I won't look away from that.

It matters to me.

[ Hermione bows her head, and she purses her lips. ]

You being here, I mean. It matters to me. I'm glad I got to meet you, Erik, not just because I knew you as someone important to Charles, but because of you. You're my friend, and that matters. I'd miss you.

[He finds himself at a loss, the sudden admission taking him by surprise. It always does. He can write out his litany of crimes in his mind all he wants, but he forgets that not everyone knows about them... and not everyone holds them against him. So the silence stretches onwards, Erik clearly not sure how to respond.]

[ The thing is... Hermione doesn't need to know. She already knows herself, the people she's loved and forgiven, the things she's seen - the things she's done... And so she offers her trust without hesitation. If she can be forgiven, if people can trust her, if they can see good in her then she can do the same. It's what inspires her now, even as she breathes out, cheeks a little red as she takes a long drink of her tea.

... Either she's made him feel better or she's ruined things forever. Either way, she'll need her tea. ]

...it doesn't matter how much time I take. I don't think it will get any better.

You don't know that for sure, though.

[ She leans back, pressing her fingers into the scarring on her arm, before she closes her eyes and bows her head. ]

I'm sorry. I shouldn't really be lecturing you - I'm sure you have your reasons. I just want you to be happy.

[He shakes his head, expression crumpling a bit before he regains control of himself. Happiness isn't something he can seek. He had let it slip through his fingers, or it had been ripped away from him. Some solace can be found in his remaining family, his friends. That's all.]

You're allowed to have your opinions.

[ Reaching out, eyes glued to Erik's face, Hermione shakes her head, fingers resting over his as she squeezes gently. ]

Maybe, but you're also allowed to tell me to shut up. I know I can be quite intolerable sometimes.

No more than I am.

I find you quite tolerable, actually, Mr. Lehnsherr.

You've caught me at the end of my worst.

[He falls silent for a moment, looking at Hermione's fingers curled on top of his. As always, he feels the rings there. Silver on his pointer. Gold on his ring. "I'm sure you have your reasons."

Yes. He does. And they're not ones he should drop on her, not when all he'd come over for is to give her a belated birthday present. But it feels like navigating a maze, answering her questions without really saying anything. Erik doesn't lift his gaze, and when he talks again it's quiet.]

My family died.

At least it's the end and not the beginning.

[ She doesn't think there's much she'd be able to do to help, if it was right at the beginning. She's never been as good at comfort as she'd like - Lavender Brown could argue that point - but she tries. She does her best, and when Erik's words sink around her... She breathes out a soft noise, turning her head back to him.

Careful, her hand squeezes his, but for a moment she stays silent. Sorries and apologies aren't enough - and she knows that. When John died, when Aslan died, when Gilgamesh died - when Harry died, or she'd thought he had... Nothing was enough to fix her heart. She knows how it feels to lose family, but she's not sure she can express that without sounding like an idiot.

Instead, she looks back at Erik, solemn and quiet. ]

I can see how that can be the worst. For you.

[She has the right of it. It's the pain of having finally let himself heal, have some hope again... only to have it shattered and crushed into dust. Everything's in ruins. And everyone expects him to just... fix himself. Become okay again. As though the broken pieces of his heart can possibly fit back together, when two of those pieces are gone forever.

He doesn't meet Hermione's eyes.]

No. This isn't as bad as it was... when it happened. [If she had been there at that time, she would only have found a monster, howling for death. Caught in the clutches of a real monster, puppeting him around.] It's only changed shape.

[ Hermione doesn't want to say she understands; she doesn't want Erik to think that her empathy comes from a place of falsehood, but she doesn't know if offering her own experiences would do anything to ease the pain in his heart. She's lost so much, too - family, friends, herself, all of it a tangled mess inside of her, but... She doesn't think that would help him.

Instead, she squeezes his hand, holding onto him gently.

It's the best she can do. ]

It changes, but it doesn't go away. That sort of pain isn't a scar, or something you can just.. Cover up. It's more like a scab, really. It heals, and you know it's there, but you can pretend it doesn't hurt as long as you don't touch it. Sometimes something else rips it open, though... And there's no hiding from it anymore.

[He finally looks up, unguarded. Because it's true, but it's not far enough. His wound hasn't scabbed over. It's still flayed open; it doesn't need to be touched to still lance him with pain. He can occupy himself for a time, yet he knows it's still there. He's always been masterful at pushing through pain... this time, though, it's much harder.]

It's... disfiguring.

[ Hermione looks at Erik, and she nods her head. There's no point in trying to hide the fact that she's as raw and hurt as he is - it doesn't matter how much time passes, the death of the people you love is impossible to ignore. The first time Dorian had died for her (and the fact that she has to say 'first time' speaks for itself) she had been so broken and lost she had ripped a woman's spine out.

There's no coming back from that kind of pain. ]

It's not going to go away... But that's alright. If we accept it and force ourselves to pretend then we're not being ourselves, and no one wants that.

[He's silent for a moment. She understands it. That wound, unhealing, always bleeding.]

Who I am is broken. If I act that way, the way it really is... there's little reason for anyone to speak to me.

[The faultlines will become clearer, the longer people look. All those little words of encouragement, the belief that he'll fix himself and get better... that will dry up, eventually. They'll see that he was never all right to begin with. Because if he hasn't managed to be okay in over fifty years, what hope does he have of being so now?]

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