The words flow smoothly from quill to parchment as I watch, and I can hear the soft scratching of the quill. The sunlight filters in through the grimy window they hadn't gotten around to washing yet, and turns her hair a soft shade of honey. From my seat on the couch, I can see the determined set of her face and the pursed lips as she contemplates the next sentence. Her eyes are searching the page before a new sentence unfolds at the bottom.

She absentmindedly tucks a stray curl behind her ear, and I notice the soft shape of her hand. Her delicate fingers return to holding the page, and a neat signature is scrawled across the bottom. She bites her lip as she reads it over in her head, and quickly rolls it up to send away.

Her light footsteps are steady as she crosses the room, but her fingers tremble as she ties the letter to a waiting owl. The anxiety leaves her and her shoulders lift as she watches her letter soar to its destination. A great burden is lifted from her when her entire future sails away on the claws of an owl. The great wings unfold in the air, and it slowly becomes a speck in the sky. A sigh is realized when she can no longer see the bird.

Silently I make my way over, and rub the tension from her shoulders. She jumps a little when I approach, but relaxes into my fingers with another sigh.

I want to ease her worries entirely, and have her spend hours in my arms, but it's not my place. It can never by my place to be by her side. I silently slip away as she's lost in thought, and resume my place on the other side of the room. It feels like the other side of the world, and the distance from the woman I love is painful. I can only see her from a distance, and always with the ever-present family member. This is the first time we've been alone in years, and I can't take the silence that builds as she becomes engrossed in her own world.

I take a breath to say her name, but let it out in a sigh as I remember my place. She's my brother's wife. I look at her, my eyes saying everything my lips never will, but she doesn't see.

I love you. I have always loved you, and I always will. I wish you had never married him. I wish you had married me instead. I want to steal you away, and make you happy. I will always protect you, Hermione Jean Granger, until my last breath. I can never let you go.

I forced myself to stand up, and step away. I left my heart and my thoughts in that room, on that cold October day.

She shivered as he left, and pulled the oversize sweater tighter around her. His absence pulled at her, and unwound her as a loose thread to a sweater. She wanted to run into his arms and tell him how unhappy her marriage was. She wanted to bury her face in the chest the smelled like cinnamon and family until every row left her mind, and she found peace.

His soft footsteps on the hardwood floor took her heart as he left the room. He paused, and she turned, barely daring to hope. Desperation shone in her eyes as she noticed the ocean blue of his. His breath caught at all the longing in her chocolate eyes, and he restrained a sob. One indecisive step forward, and she looked ready to launch herself into his arms.

The low groan of the board in front of the first step of the staircase made him turn away. They must remember their place.

She knew her husband was on his way up, and was eternally grateful that he showed more restraint than she could. She heard another whisper of bare feet against hard flooring, and he was gone. Only the creak of the top step could force her to compose herself. She picked up a book off the desk, quickly sitting down and opening to the middle.

The soft wool of the large, knit sweater brushed against her arms, but failed to warm her. A chill swept through the hole where he heart had been, and her fingers trembled as she turned the page of the book she held. The soft hush of paper on paper comforted her like no other sound. She rubbed her palms against her legs, both to warm up, and to calm down. The loud, crisp clip of her husband's shoes grated on her ears after the whisper of Fred's departure. The crisp suit felt out of place compared to his faded t-shirt and jeans.

Her husband pressed a rough kiss to her lips, and she felt like an actress playing a part. She didn't want the foreign lips, but she remembered her place. Fred's smooth, gentle kiss played through her mind, and she could not banish it. He had only kissed her once, all those years ago, but she would never forget the smooth caress so different from her husband's. He prattled on loudly about work as she got lost in the memory.

There was soft rain outside the warm study windows, and another oversize sweater kept her warm. A much worn book occupied her thoughts as the light faded. She had just accepted Ron's proposal, and even then she was unsure why. Loneliness pulled at her, and he filled it. He was a warm body to protect and comfort her, but she didn't love him like he loved her.

Thunder crashed, and the lights were flicked on before he was at her side. Fred held her, and she was shaking from fear. Ron knew she was afraid of thunder, but he never came to her. Fred did without fail.

His arms encompassed her yet again, and he locked the door magically as he pressed a kiss to her head. With every crash he would cover her ears, and kiss he forehead. She kept her eyes closed through the storm, and when it finished, a soft sweet kiss was pressed to her lips. His calloused hands were rough against her soft skin, and he look into her eyes.

"I had to. At least once."

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes, and he left without a trace. She unlocked the door, and slept with his scent wafting through her dreams. That was the last time he came to her.