A/N: The second drabble written for the list on my LiveJournal. This one is Oliver/Hermione since I haven't written this pairing in a while.

Love Me In Red

How could he not have seen it? How could he have been so blind? It had been there all along. So why did he miss it?

He didn't know what to do first. Should he run to her usual spot and see if it was all a joke? Read the note again and pinch himself, hoping to wake from this bad dream? Go out and scour the town for her? Call her parents and see if she had maybe went there?

'This is all your fault anyways. You should have seen it in the way she acted as of late!' he scolded himself. But how was he to know that that morning would lead up to a day that would be different from the rest?

She sat on the back porch stairs watching the golden rays of sun break through the earthly toned forest behind their house. He watched her from the tiny, curtained window over the kitchen sink. He knew what was on her thought-plagued mind; knew she was thinking back on times before, just like she always did. He knew she was comparing those times with what was left now.

Next to nothing. That's what's left,' he thought as he turned away from the window to head upstairs to the study.

She sighed and drew her jacket tighter around her. She knew he had been watching her; she felt his honey-like eyes calculating her every movement. But she didn't dare turn around. She didn't want to make eye contact; didn't want to see the disappointment that those yellow-brown orbs held.

Things just weren't as they used to be. She knew it, and he knew it. That's why she sat outside most every morning, even through light rains, with her cup of warm tea while she scanned the yard for something. She never knew what it was she was looking for, maybe an answer on how to fix things. He would never dare join her as she looked for her comfort in the slender, diamond-dew-covered blades of grass. And maybe that's where the mistake was made.

He just left her to her thoughts. Thoughts that would ebb away in her mind from one to the next until it drove her near insane. Memories, good and bad, would flash before her mind's eye like a photo album, reminding her of all that once was. Times when they first got together would dance by happily, followed by images of their dull, lonely nights in the two years passed.

She frowned, lines creasing her forehead as her lip quivered. She blamed herself for the way things were. The way they would silently head off to bed in separate rooms. Him to the couch, and her to the large, solitary bed she should have shared with him. She blamed herself for the fact that they didn't touch anymore. For the fact that he didn't look at her with the same love in his eyes as he used to. The night she had turned him away out of fear was the night that their marriage broke. Why had she been so foolish?

He walked up the stairs, dragging his feet as he hung his head. He was headed for the bedroom, hoping to find her there. The sound of thunder made him stop, and he looked about as the lights of the house blinked and went out. The moon outside cast a blue tint upon the white walls and doors of the rooms along the hall. He looked around for a candle, and his eyes landed on the door which he would never dare open when she was around. But she was gone now, so what did it matter?

Floor boards creaked, and thunder rumbled. Lightning crashed as he laid his hand gently on the handle as though afraid it would shatter. Turning it lightly, he heard the latch click, signaling its opening. He let the door creep open of its own accord, silent and slow, almost eerie as he closed his eyes; fearing to look in and possibly see her there.

When he opened them, his eyes looked across furniture covered in dusty white sheets, nothing more. In the center of the room sat a rocking chair, half uncovered. Beside it was a table, draped in the same fabric. He stepped inside, the floor groaning in protest as it shifted slightly with weight it wasn't used to. No one had ever entered this room, save the few times he would peek in, hoping to see what they had lost smiling at him from the crib in the corner.

His chest felt suddenly empty as he approached that very crib. He slid his fingers across the dust-laden, wooden bars as tears stung the corners of his eyes. Why had it been them to suffer such a loss? It just wasn't fair. They hadn't even got to hold her in their arms.

He watched the dust particles flow up into the air, feathery and floating weightlessly. Looking outside, he spotted the same yard that his wife was forever gazing upon each morning. Why hadn't he tried to fix things? Why had he let her push him away when he wanted so desperately to try again?

Turning from the pain that was in the room, he left, closing the door behind him. Entering the bedroom, he noticed a beaten box sitting on the floor. He walked over and picked it up from the rug before the closet, peering inside. He snorted a bit as he realized what it held. Love notes. Mostly ones he used to write her in school and in the mornings before she left for work. Each one written in red, just as her note tonight had been.

He pulled one from the box and glanced at the first few lines.

Dearest Hermione,

Quaffles are red,
Snitches are gold,
I'll love you forever,
Even after we grow old.

He shook his head at how silly they used to be, but the thoughts of better times did nothing for his glum disposition. In fact, it only served to make it worse. He tossed the box on the bed and left the room, feeling restless and beat down. How had things gotten so far away from the love that they first knew? Where had that love gone?

He trudged back down the stairs and passed the front door without noticing the handle turning. He was to the kitchen door when it opened, and she stepped in. He whipped around, alert and fully aware, only to see her tear-stained face gazing back at him.

She bowed her head, unable to take his stare any longer, and saw the note she had left him at her feet. She stooped to pick it up, and when she stood, she came face to face with those soft, warm eyes she had once longed to look into all day.

"I forgot to sign it," she murmured, remembering how he used to sign the notes he wrote to her.

He gave no response as his eyes stayed pinned to hers, and his breath stayed caught in his throat, waiting on her lips to form those fateful words.

"Love me," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

"Always," he spoke back quietly as he cupped her face in his hands. "Always."