There were those days when he would be alone in his study examining various documents upon documents of various world affairs in desperate attempt to finish the task prior to the given deadline. These days indicated that he would be confined in the Renaissance-themed musty workroom, knowing his twin sister would remain with her back against the wooden door; a tea tray in her hands.
These days were unusually long. They tended to fall in the mid-week days, such as Wednesday or Thursdays, and during this time, everything through his amethyst orbs, every image he say through the clear frame of his glasses seemed to radiate a dull grey aura of tedious ness- a dreadful feeling as I the world was muffled.
Those were days that made him want to be capable of forgetting her, that woman, who resided a long distance from him; for merely having her entering his consciousness was enough to distract him for the next few hours.
Those were those days when she would be bored on the lush blue sofa with her mobile device resting in her soft palm, deciding which man she was going to spend the night with because she craved the warmth of another human being by her. Those days expressed her isolation when there was not a soul with her other than the various felines that littered the house and though she knew she could contact her at any moment, she was sure he would not answer as he was most likely with some woman in the restroom of a bar.
Those days seemed to pass by quickly until evening came. They liked to fall at the end of the week, mainly being Fridays or Saturdays and during this hellish time, everything though her emerald-green eyes was lucid and clear, validating her unimaginative look on life. Everything she saw was accurate- there was never anything more to look into, no philosophical analysis was required as everything seemed to be plain as day, it was so obvious.
Those were days that made her yearn for a life where he, the foreign land beauty, had not entered her life. If that were the case, then it would be needless to say that she wouldn't be feeling so guilty and empty without him by her side.
And then, there were the days when she would visit Vienna, or he would stop by Athens, and there were even times when they would meet together in Brussels or Amsterdam after the conferences that were being held in those locations. They barely spoke to one another. He would hold his hand out in silent invitation and she would gently incase hers around it in quiet acceptance.
He often said he didn't need to smile, but with her by his side, it was impossible not to.
She often told others that she didn't need to worry about her physical appearance but for him, this changed.
So, they would go to the nearest private piano chamber and Roderich would play his Austrian concertos while Hermione napped, listening to the beautiful, harmonious notes, with her Greek Aegan cat in her arms.
These were days that they deemed to be their perfection- their world of amazing, unspoken love. They couldn't tell you how it began just as they would be unable to tell you if it ended because this- this pure, untainted love- was hardly a story.
Ladies and gentleman, real love is an emotion too strong to ever completely forget just as it is blinding in constant doses which why they, an unlikely Austrian man and Greek woman, could only truly love one another in the moment.
