Hermione sat in the middle of her cold house with a cardigan drawn up tightly around her. She sat in silence with hundreds of magical pictures all around her on the floor, but one in particular sat directly in front of her feet, though she refused to look directly at it.
The Battle of Hogwarts had been four years previous, and her marriage was just over three years old; the two things that now gave her the worst nightmares.
For the first year or so after the battle, Hermione grieved like all of the normal witches and wizards, and she moved on when it was appropriate. She often visited the families of the loved ones lost, and still made an attempt to see her two best friends in the world. Life for the first few years was so [i]easy[/i], though back then she would not have agreed, and she was so normal. However, if you fast-forwarded until about a year ago, Hermione started to notice changes in her; changes even her husband, Draco Malfoy, could not see yet. It started with a lack of appetite, then shifted to a cold and numb feeling whenever she thought about May 2nd, 1998. Eventually, Hermione felt herself pulling away from her husband as she felt he could no longer help her, but Draco hung on. He had loved her and pined after her for far too long to let a little depression take his dream away from him now.
Night after night Hermione had terrible, fitful nightmares that awoke Draco, but never once did he complain, but he also cherished the nights where she would let him hold her and rock her back into a better sleep. He brought her coffee in the morning, and tea in the evening, and he never once forgot to tell her that he loved her, but for some reason, it just didn't seem to be enough. Nothing he did could snap Hermione out of the permanent fog she seemed to be in.
The couple had only been married three years, and already Draco wept on the nights his wife slept because he felt like he was losing her, if she hadn't already gone yet. Hot, angry tears often stained his face, and his bright red, puffy eyes in the morning told his co-workers about his tough private times. No matter though, Draco pressed on doing everything he could to make his marriage last.
At six in the evening, the grandfather clock went off suddenly, and Hermione nearly jumped out of her own skin. She knew that in about a half of an hour her husband would be home for the night and a small piece of her knew that she should be excited about his return, but she just couldn't any more. It was almost as if there was nothing left in her anymore. No joy, no happiness and it felt as if her capacity to love had seriously dwindled.
Today though, Hermione felt a little different. As she starred at all of the pictures around her taken during random parts of her life, something inside her softened, especially as she looked at the one by her feet, and she felt more alone than ever before.
For the past year she had spent the majority of her time with her husband wishing him away and cursing him for making her feel bad with his late night tears when he thought she was asleep, but now suddenly she wanted him home, and craved to be wrapped in the arms in silence.
Sighing, Hermione started to clean up the photos around her and put them in a memory box with an enchanted lock only she and Draco knew the indication for. Just about the time she was done cleaning and had dinner in the oven, the telltale click of the lock set her teeth on edge. She tried so hard not to look desperate or impatient waiting, but she couldn't stand to be alone anymore.
"Baby?" Draco called out experimentally into the front hallway. From her position in the kitchen, Hermione had to count to three with breaths before going to him to satisfy some sort of self-dignity she had left. "I'm home, and it smells delicious in here!" Hermione smiled to herself and wrapped her arms around her torso. For the first time in months, she felt butterflies at the prospect of seeing her husband. "I bet I'm going to [i]love[/i] dinner tonight!"
Not being able to contain herself anymore, Hermione flew down the hallway from the kitchen and launched herself at Draco, knocking him back into the front door. As she buried her nose deep into his cloaks, Hermione heard him laugh his throaty melody.
"Now [i]that[/i] was quite the welcome home. Bloody hell, babe, you have no idea how much I've missed this," he mumbled quietly, and hugged his wife so tight in fear of her letting go. Before she could say another word to him and mess this whole moment up, Hermione kept hugging, and kissed Draco hard on the mouth leading him over to the couch where they sat and continued to cuddle.
As she relished the feeling of company and not being so afraid of her own mind, her thoughts wandered to the locked memory box that sat on the coffee table in front of them, and her stomach sank when she remembered what was inside. Feeling guilty, she pushed it off the table with her toe, and tucked it under the couch out of sight. If she didn't have to look at it, then it wasn't real. For now, she would just enjoy the small amount of joy and love she could feel.
Finally, Draco broke the silence.
"So tell me, dear, why the sudden change of heart?" he asked. "You've been in a sad fog, and now you're all running and jumping and cuddling." There was certainly no mistaking the hint of sadness in Draco's voice as he reminisced about the past few months void of an emotion from her. The catch in his throat almost killed Hermione inside. She could see tears in his eyes, and it prompted her own tear ducts, and pulled on her heartstrings. She had put her husband through so much of her self-pity, which she hadn't stopped to think about what it did to him.
"I just love you. I can't live in my own little shell anymore. I need my husband, and I need my marriage to be okay again," she said slowly, and she sucked in a big breath. "I think I just need to feel normal after so long of feeling monstrous."
Draco nodded his head as if he understood, and tightened his grip on Hermione.
"Well, I'm never going to let you go again, so you have no worries by dear Hermie," he whispered in her ear, causing goose bumps to run up and down her arms.