Hermione opened her front door and tried not to think about the feeling of her heart dropping as she entered her empty home. She hung her cloak up on the hook, sad to see it there alone, and made her way down the hall, not bothering with the lights as she went.
The kitchen was her first stop, for a bottle of cabernet sauvignon to chase away the feelings of loneliness with a little help from a good book and possibly a bubble bath.
The bedroom was next, where Hermione stripped away her heavy clothes and dutifully put them in the hamper and slipped into her soft rose coloured silk robe. She set her want on the nightstand and smiled at the photo of her and Harry smiling back, dancing in circles as autumn leaves fell from above them.
She knew she was in love with him well before the photo was taken, but that day was the first time he had told her. Two years later it was still her favorite.
She ran the bath, adding in a few oils to relieve the tension in her shoulders, and returned to the bedroom to find a book to read and a glass to drink from. Years of dealing with problems by slipping into a silky bath with a bottle of wine led to leaving a few spare glasses nearby.
Hermione dropped her robe into an unceremonious pile near the door and slid slowly into oblivion. Missing Harry was becoming too routine, something even the smells of vanilla and sandalwood couldn't erase.
When they'd moved in together four months ago, they really thought they would see each other more. Almost three years together though and so far this was the roughest patch: constant distance.
They made it through when Molly refused to see either of them for breaking not one but two of her children's hearts, and even after when Ron and Ginny moved on but Molly refused to relent.
They made it through Hermione finding her parents in Australia, only to discover they had waited too long to reverse the memory charm.
They made it through annual celebrations at Hogwarts, the Ministry, and St. Mungo's, always surrounded by adoring fans and sycophants. They made it through it all together.
She well and truly loved him, and her only complaint in their relationship was hopefully a short term one: they were two passing ships.
As a full-fledged auror, Harry was out of the country on missions fairly often. They were supposed to be fewer now, with the war well and thoroughly behind them, but there had been incidents in Ireland and a post-war treaty between the two countries meant Harry had to travel there often to contribute to the on-going struggles with radicals.
Hermione worried but she would never suggest Harry do anything else. He loved his job just about as much as Hermione loved hers.
Having gone back to Hogwarts to do her N.E.W.T's, Hermione now worked as a magical researcher, discovering new spells and such for a private institute in Amsterdam. She worked largely from Britain, but traveled often to the main institute and to conferences all across Europe, as a lead enchantress in her field.
But she started a project two months ago that meant early mornings and late evenings, which was how this all began. Harry had been called away on two different two week trips in that time, and when the project finally wrapped up, Hermione was called away for a string of workshops. When she came back, Harry was summoned again.
The last time they properly saw each other would have been a week and a half ago.
Both were successful and immensely proud of each other, but sometimes they truly were two passing ships.
Hermione sank lower into her bath water with that thought, trying to drown it before it festered.
By the time her bottle of wine was polished off, Hermione felt mollified. Missing Harry was a small price to pay for his happiness, and things would realign. She had already put in a request at work to stay in Britain uninterrupted for a few months, so that would be a huge improvement.
But for now, it was getting late and Harry was bound to call or send an owl along soon.
Hermione dried herself off and picked her robe up off of the ground, unable to muster the will to find proper clothes. The clock in her bedroom said it was just after eight o'clock, but the phone said no missed calls.
Perhaps he sent an owl?
Hermione trudged down the stairs, daring to hope for a small note letting her know he was coming home soon.
Maybe we should take a vacation soon, just a small trip away somewhere together. Prague was lovely last spring but maybe—
Hermione couldn't finish her thought.
The smell of seafood tagliatelle—her favorite—and the flickering of candle lights called Hermione into the dining room, where Harry stood, smiling.
Hermione's eyes watered traitorously as she drank in the sight of him.
"I missed you."
Three simple words and he had Hermione flinging herself across the room and into his arms. He could smell the soft hint of wine on her breath and laughed, holding her tightly.
"I told Robards I needed a break from the constant travel, that I wasn't getting enough time at home," said Harry, his face buried in Hermione's hair as he took in her fresh scent.
"Oh Harry, you didn't need to do that," Hermione said, despite being absolutely delighted he would be home more too. Harry laughed at the twinkle in her eyes and leaned down to kiss her.
"I would much rather love you up close than from afar. I don't want to live like two ships passing. I just want you."
Author's note: This was done as a thank you to Freya-Ishtar, who despite only having spoken to me the once volunteered to edit my first piece of fanfiction properly written out in over a decade. I was convinced I had no proper 'voice', that my pacing was all wrong, everything. She took a friendly red pen and drew in comments and edits and all in all was a huge support. Many, many thanks 3