Today we raise our wands in remembrance of the Fallen Fifty on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. /*

Huge thanks to my Alpha/Betas NuclearNik and Monica03, without them I would be a mess and this story would be a disaster. Also a huge thanks to my Omegas (pre-readers) MarshmallowMcGonagall, QuinTalon, and Weestarmeggie!

To everyone who reads, subscribes, bookmarks, comments/reviews, follows, reblogs, likes, etc: I appreciate you all SO VERY MUCH. With the length of my chapters and the editing process, it leaves little time to come back and interact (I'll still try, however!). I promise though, all of it makes me go starry eyed and flail about every single time. The comments on chapter 16 were SO LOVELY and I thank every single one of you for them! 333

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Time passed strangely. Some days flew by, while others moved at a crawl. The first week felt like an eternity with Hermione's lack of mobility. At times she itched to hop up out of the chair to do something as simple as taking a shower by herself but knew she was likely to fall on her face as soon as she took her first step thanks to the potions coursing through her.

She practiced magic when she could, sometimes taking control of the chair and wheeling herself around the house to explore in order to give Draco and the elves a small break. It was never long before one of them came looking for her to make sure she was all right.

It had been with great disappointment that she discovered his library was on the upper floors. She'd eyed the stairs with interest and wondered if her magic would be able to hold out long enough to get her to the top of the first flight. With all the energy her body used to heal, she often felt fatigued after doing a moderate amount of spellwork. As if he were able to read her mind, Draco showed up moments afterwards with the excuse that she had visitors about to arrive, quickly wheeling her back to the sitting room where Harry and Ginny turned up for tea a short while later. When she made her way back there again there was a faint, glowing line drawn across the entirety of the wide bottom step. Curiosity made her stick her hand across it. When nothing happened, Hermione pulled out her wand, but before she could attempt anything, Bumble popped into existence to ask if there was anything he could do for her.

After that Draco did his best to keep her entertained and away from the temptation of getting upstairs. He magically made her chair taller so she'd be able to comfortably help him transplant seedlings from trays to larger pots at the bench in the smaller rooms off of the conservatory. Mornings were often spent there nurturing plants or experimenting with cross-breeding different species. They spent afternoons strolling along the lined walkways near the extensive apple orchard in the brisk autumn air. Draco's magic warmed her so she could stick to soft, comfortable cotton frocks or matching linen outfits with a cardigan layered on top.

Their first time out Hermione learned why the property had been named Appledale after seeing rows upon rows upon rows of apple trees that went up and over the large hill. He told her of how hundreds of bushels went to Hogwarts, but otherwise, they went to market. Sometimes their walks were quiet but others he spent telling her stories from his childhood, like how sometimes his father would sneak a puppy from one of the latest litters into his room to play with after he'd gotten in trouble with his mother or governess. Afterward, it was as if she could feel his loss, anger and regret radiating off of him as he changed topics and hurriedly went on to some other misadventure he and Adrian, Theo, or Blaise got into as children.

She came to the conclusion that he had a complicated relationship with his father that he was still working on resolving and likely had been ever since Lucius died. Merlin knew there were days she still struggled over the situation with her own parents, so she didn't press him or ask questions after it was clear he was done with the subject despite being full to bursting with them.

After a week, Phineas Fawley made an appearance to examine her. He reminded her of Madam Hooch with his yellow, hawk-like eyes and short silver hair. His face was angular, with a curved nose and a neatly kept mustache that curled at each end. He was soft-spoken, yet had a strict, no-nonsense air about him. He introduced himself, then had her explain what had happened to bring her to the current situation. As she talked, he twirled his wand expertly and brought up a plethora of diagnostic information with charm after charm as she sat sedately in the chair with Draco right behind her. Fawley paid Draco's hovering no mind and went along his exam as if he weren't there.

Hermione heard the handles squeak in Draco's grip when Fawley took her hands to test her range of motion. She desperately wanted to turn her head to see his expression or pull her hand from Fawley's and place it upon his, but she forced herself to remain relaxed and let the Healer lead her through the experiment. He took the resistance she gave when she reached the extent of her range of motion as the indicator of her limits and didn't try to push her past them. He seemed to understand Draco's patience would snap should he inflict discomfort upon her.

Finally, Fawley asked her some questions about how she'd been sleeping, if her eating habits had changed, and how she was handling her potions. He gave her a list of exercises to do twice a day, demonstrating each one and giving alternatives should she find the original to be too painful. To her delight, he told her that she could take the brace off until she felt discomfort. Her other allowance was that she could get out of the chair and walk short distances since her potion potency was about to be reduced, but stairs were still out of the question along with magical travel. As he was getting his notes in order, he mentioned that outside of her exercises she was not to lift her arms above shoulder level nor turn her head quickly.

It took all of her existing willpower not to scowl. She felt the tip of a finger begin to trail back and forth across the back of her left shoulder, and a bit of the frustration bled away. She wondered— not for the first time during bouts of anger at the situation— if she would be able to get away with some sort of unpleasant spells when they caught their killer as retribution for what the person was putting her through. Not the Cruciatus, but maybe boils to the nethers for a month or something similar and equally awful.

They thanked him for stopping by, and Bumble showed him to the traveling room. Hermione reached up and tugged the straps open on the neck brace, pulling it off as gently as she could, lest she anger the still healing muscles. It was almost time for her potions again, so she was fairly clear-headed and didn't feel like she'd downed a bottle of Ogden's Finest. She gave an experimental turn of her head to sort her limits before standing from the chair and turning towards Draco.

He gripped the handle with one hand and reached toward her with the other. For the past week, every time she'd stood, he'd had a hold of her arm in case she even so much as wobbled. He began to pull his hand back when she caught it in her fingers, twining them together as she stepped carefully around the chair until she was in his space.

Over the past week, he'd kissed her forehead, cheeks, fingers, and had given her small pecks on the mouth, but she desperately missed his regular kisses. The ones that more often than not had her running her fingers up into his hair or slipping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him. She wanted one, and she wanted it now.

Hermione stepped close to him until they were almost chest to chest. She tilted her head back experimentally and found she had just enough range to look up into his eyes without pain. All week he'd treated her as if she was spun glass, and she hadn't once objected. She ran her free hand over his chest and around to the back of his neck where she gently pulled him down until their lips met in a tentative kiss. His hand drifted to her waist and around to rest on the curve of her spine as he gently pulled her against him.

For a moment she felt completely normal, as if the accident had never happened and the last week had been an absurd but awful dream. Then his hand moved to her waist, gave it a gentle squeeze and he moved back from her.

"Perhaps we should move this to the sofa. I don't like the way your head's tilted back so far after taking off that brace. It's more than you've moved it in over a week so it might be prudent to start slower with your range of motion."

While she didn't like not being able to stand and kiss him, she wasn't going to argue against sitting with him in a more intimate way.

He gently spun her around, keeping one hand on her waist and guiding her over to sit down, still helping her as she eased down on the cushions. He sat close enough that their knees were brushing. When he leaned into her space and gently gripped her jaw, she didn't have to tilt her head back to meet him at all. This kiss was less gentle than it was moments before, and it was obvious that there was a hunger there that spoke of how he'd missed kissing her just as much as she missed receiving them from him.

His hand moved to rest on the side of her neck as if he were afraid to slip it around to cup the back of her head. His thumb stroked the space just under her ear, and she decided to let him go with his own level of comfort when it came to touching her in her damaged state. Now, the next item on her agenda was to convince him to put his mouth there again as soon as possible.

Her own hands had not remained idle and instead of cupping his face, they rested on his shoulders where her fingertips lazily drew random patterns before they slid down his chest to grasp either side of his trim waist.

He sucked in a breath through his nose and pressed his mouth more firmly against her own. Parting her lips just enough, she traced the seam of his mouth with the tip of her tongue. Apparently it was either all the invitation he needed or he simply lost the battle against his will power because suddenly his warm tongue dipped into her mouth and began to caress and stroke her own, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as she returned his advances and he became more certain in his actions.

She knew right away it was something she'd never get enough of. It was exquisite and intimate in a way they'd yet to be, and suddenly her designation in his life came rumbling back to the forefront of her mind. Her heart thrilled at the thought of physicalities yet to come. Perhaps when she was a little bit better, and he wasn't so afraid to be physical with her, she could perhaps coax him into something more. The thought of his warm, heavy frame on top of her as they kissed, explored, experimented... It was something she suddenly wanted desperately. She'd thought about doing much more with him, of course, but it was best to take it one step at a time and remember that he likely operated under a much different set of rules than what she was used to; she would respect that in the same way he had respected her.

Gradually the kiss became less intense and evolved into something gentler, sweeter, and then it ended with several tender pecks. Finally, he pressed his forehead to hers. "I've wanted to do that all week," he murmured. He was close enough still that when he spoke his lips partially brushed against her own.

He continued to push her in the chair when they went on their walks that week. She was satisfied with getting to turn her head more but couldn't wait until she could walk on her own next to him again. She missed the feel of his hand intertwined with hers or on her waist, and the limited freedom she had made her itch for more. It was nice being able to walk to the kitchen or to her bedroom on her own, but now she wanted to be able to do things like a regular person again. Things like going up a simple set of stairs in search of a certain Malfoy library.

The second week passed by quickly, but unlike the first, she didn't live in a near-constant haze. With her potion potency reduced she slept less and was able to hold more substantive conversations with her companion. She could walk around the greenhouses and water the plants as well as do basic weeding with her wand, and much to Draco's surprise, she was able to charm the house-elves into allowing her to help with dinner. While they didn't allow her to lift anything, she was able to do the ingredient prep and stir things at the stove as long as she was agreeable to taking several breaks to sit down.

In the evenings after dinner, they sat together in the sitting room either listening to records, the wireless, or reading together. She was still unable to tilt her head down for long periods of time without experiencing discomfort, so Draco kept up the tradition of reading to her until she fell asleep. He hadn't fallen asleep in her room again since that first night, but he was somehow always there when she inevitably had a terrifying falling dream that woke her right as she hit the ground. She never remembered much, only that he coaxed her back into a lying position in the dim light from the end of his wand and back into slumber, but she speculated that one of the house-elves was keeping tabs on her just in case she needed something.

The week had also been filled with delicious kisses. He trapped her at the workbench in the greenhouse and cupped her face, drinking her in before leaning down to her level to taste her. He would stop them in the middle of their walk and bend over to capture her lips with little warning, and sometimes they would be sitting together on the couch and it would be as if he couldn't stand it anymore and he had to either kiss her or die. And always, always, he kissed her forehead when she was drifting off and hovering in that place just between sleep and awake.

Fawley came again precisely one week later and performed an exam similar to the first time. He largely ignored Draco again except to ask him some questions. For the most part, Draco behaved just as he had the first time. He stayed seated in his chair, his legs crossed at the knee and hands folded in his lap, but Hermione could detect the tension in him when Fawley took her hands to test her range of motion. It had expanded further than last time, and he waved his wand, casting some spells she'd never heard that slithered into her skin, deep into her muscles. It felt icky, almost slimy, but once it settled in, the magic turned warm and it felt as if she'd had a diluted strengthening solution injected straight into the weakened muscles.

Much like last time, Fawley didn't push her beyond the limits of her comfort level. He seemed to know that if Hermione exhibited pain it would spur Draco to action just the same as before.

Much to her delight, Fawley encouraged more walking, more exercise, and she was now allowed to lift her arms over her head and bend over to an extent as long as it didn't cause pain, which meant she could wash her own hair and shower by herself. The news that she still was not allowed to traverse stairs was frustrating but perhaps she could try to bend that rule towards the end of the week. He gave her a new set of exercises to work on as he recorded her progress in his notes.

Draco seemed to relax when Bumble once again showed Fawley back to the traveling room. Hermione spun in place, the skirt of her flouncy frock flaring out and then resettling around her calves. He was sitting there watching her, having already dismissed the physician. Draco seemed curious as to if she would approach him again in the name of celebration of another milestone reached.

Not one to disappoint, she strolled over to him, placed her hands on the arms of the chair, and leaned over into his personal space stopping just shy of his lips. He watched her with gleaming eyes as she ran her tongue along her bottom lip and in doing so barely grazed his mouth.

In an instant his hands were gripping her hips and guiding her into his lap. One hand held her flush to him as he claimed her lips and plundered her mouth. She whined low in her throat and rolled her hips against him, feeling him hard beneath her as she suckled on his tongue. His grip on her tightened, forcing her to hold still, but she could feel the tension in his body as he kept himself from reciprocating.

Moments later, he broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"We can't, Hermione. Not right now, not while you're still healing and delicate. I could hurt you so easily if I got just the slightest bit carried away."

Disappointment surely must have shown on her face, but she acquiesced. If he didn't want to, she wouldn't push him, but now she was going to require a shower to take care of the problem he'd created. When she went to get up, however, he'd yet to release her from his grip.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, I didn't want to cause you more discomfort so I thought I'd take a shower now that I'm free to wash my own hair again."

He seemed to know what she was planning on doing. His thumb began to stroke her hip as he studied her mouth and worked out what he wanted to say.

"If you want to finish what we were starting, we'll have to go by a set of rules. Do you agree to this?"

"What sort of rules?"

"Mostly that you'll keep your head still, you'll let me take care of you, and you'll not worry about me."

"But—"

"No buts. We can worry about me later. All I care about right now is taking care of you."

She bit her lip as she watched him study her. It didn't seem fair that only one of them was going to get off.

He seemed to be able to detect her wavering stance the longer he let her think, so he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers again, nipping her bottom lip.

"Please, let me take care of you," he murmured against her lips.

She would've ground her hips against his again if his hand didn't have such an ironclad hold on her.

Hermione couldn't bring herself to speak and merely nodded. His hand slid up to her waist to guide her until she was leaning back against his chest with her head on his shoulder, her thighs spread and calves dangling along the outside of his. He dragged his fingertips down her thighs and grasped the fabric in each fist, slowly dragging it upwards until her skirting was bunched around her hips.

His head dipped down to taste her neck, and she sighed as he explored the tender flesh with his mouth. Draco's hands drug slowly across her hip bones, up her stomach, and across her ribs to finally rest on her breasts, and he kneaded them, pinching her nipples through the fabric of her bra and causing her to keen and shift her hips against his hardness. She squeezed her eyes closed and concentrated, smirking in triumph at the feel of the fabric disappearing moments later. Her nipples hardened further when his palms came in closer contact.

"Did you just—" He cut himself off, able to plainly see that she'd wandlessly, wordlessly vanished her bra, and he gave a low, breathy chuckle. "So impatient."

His left hand drifted down as his right alternated between her left and right breast, tweaking her nipples, making her hiss and groan. She wanted to rub herself against him again, invite temptation, but she knew that if she pushed his rules any more he was likely to stop. If he did that she would either scream in frustration or else combust entirely. She'd wanted this for far too long now to risk it. He took time to explore her thighs, watching as he mouthed at her neck and earlobe, drawing small whimpers from her mouth.

Finally, he slipped a hand up under her dress, running his fingertips along the band of her knickers before letting them drift beneath the soft fabric. He took his time exploring her there too, tracing her folds and teasing her lips. She ground her teeth together, and it was all she could do to be still when his fingers finally brushed across her clit. He caressed her slit, collecting the moisture that had gathered and returning to the sensitive nub where he experimented with speed, pressure, and patterns. It didn't take him long to figure out exactly how to touch her to make her come undone.

Her breathy moans filled the room as he worked her in tight circles while his other hand pinched her nipple tightly, then rolled it between his finger and thumb, as his teeth grazed her earlobe.

"I've thought about this for weeks." Her heart hammered at his admission, desperately curious as to what he thought about when he thought of them like this. "I've fantasized, more than once, of us being just like this at my desk, your knickers in my pocket and your skirt up around your hips."

She was so close, so close, and she let out a desperate groan. She could envision it, being spread across him as he sat in his office chair and stroked her bare pussy as she ground her hips down against him over and over.

It was all she could do to remain still. As if rewarding her for her restraint, he pressed down the slightest bit harder and then she was teetering on the cusp.

"Hermione," he whispered.

She tipped her head over on his shoulder and looked at him through a haze of pleasure to see his lips parted slightly, breathing heavily as he stared reverently, watching as he brought her closer and closer to bliss. Their eyes locked on to one another and suddenly she was flying, crying out as the wave crested and crashed down over her with all the force of a tsunami.

He worked her through her orgasm, gradually letting up and sliding his hand from her underwear, pulling her skirt back down to drape across her lap. They were still staring at one another and it somehow felt more intimate than how he'd just been touching her, as if there was something forged between them now that they'd been building up to over the weeks and months it'd taken them to get here. It felt incomplete like it was still a work in progress, but she felt more attached, more intrinsically tied as if each step they took further bound them in a permanent sort of way.

His hands settled on her waist to rub languid circles there as she rested against him, boneless and euphoric.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, her cheeks heating.

"My pleasure."

She could tell that he wanted her to tilt her head towards him, and when she did, he claimed her lips, kissing her unhurriedly, reverently, over and over until he shifted under her.

She began to plan then, as she moved to settle sideways in his lap with her legs over the chair arm. She tucked her arm around him and settled her head comfortably against his shoulder where he held her as tightly as he dared. She felt treasured, cherished as she lay there, tucked against him. She tilted her head and listened to his heart gradually go from pounding down to a normal, steady rhythm.

After a short nap in his arms, the rest of the day passed normally. They took a shorter walk than usual after Hermione insisted they leave the chair on the back porch where she'd banished it a few days prior. She was a bit tired after they got back but insisted on helping the elves again with dinner as Draco excused himself to his office to look over the ledger. She suspected the ledger wasn't the only thing he was looking over but said nothing, merely pulled him down for a kiss before meandering into the kitchen where she disrupted the elves' dessert plans.

The week passed by with walks, stolen kisses, make-out sessions in Draco's chair, and dabbling in the potions lab together as he showed her how he tested soil samples from the vineyards, as well as making a batch of the altered sleeping draught together. She explored the ground level more in depth now that she was mostly weaned off her pain potions and could steadily walk again without Draco hovering nearby, waiting for her to tip over.

It was on a Thursday morning that she'd begun eying the staircase again. The line was gone, and she felt no magical signatures emanating from the area. Surely she could sneak upstairs and then back down before she was really missed... Just to sate her curiosity. She hoped the library was on the second floor rather than the third. She'd been tempted to ask Draco or the elves but that was bound to make them suspicious.

She'd crept up three steps before the sharp click of boots sounded on the hardwood floor as Draco hurried in her direction, and she didn't even bother to scurry back down because he'd already seen her. He must have placed a totem or some other artefact nearby that she was unable to detect.

She turned to face him, folding her arms beneath her breasts. His gray eyes were tempestuous as he looked from her to the stairs and back, an eyebrow raised as he mirrored her pose.

"I was under the impression that you were to stay off the stairs."

"I don't see why I can't go up the stairs. I feel better than I have since this whole thing happened."

"Need I remind you that you're still at risk for permanent damage?"

"But—"

"Permanent. I know somewhere in that gigantic brain of yours you remember what that word means."

"Well yes—"

"And I'm sure you remember what it was like not being able to move the day this all started."

Her fists clenched. Of course, she did. It was something she'd never forget. Hermione looked down and her eyes glazed over with tears of frustration. It was just a staircase. She was entirely capable. She survived a war. Surely to Merlin, she could climb a set of stairs. She watched as pointy black dragonhide shoes moved up the two steps until he was directly in front of her. His hands came up to curl around her biceps, stroking her bare arms with his thumbs.

"It's not that I don't think you capable, I do. I'm just..." he said as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose, "afraid for you that your streak of bad luck will continue to hold and you'll fall. I don't think you understand how much it would wreck me to see your potential be snatched from you. Even falling forward can ruin the still delicate and mending repairs. I swear to you that as soon as Fawley says stairs are allowable again, we'll go straight to the library and stay there for as long as you want. You've had a bad month. You've almost died twice. Please, let's not make it three for three." His hands dropped away and he backed down the steps, holding out a hand to her. "Come, let's go have tea. Bee made those lemon and lavender cookies you liked so well again."

She finally lifted her head to find him looking at her hopefully. Draco wasn't telling her she couldn't go, he was asking her not to because he was concerned. She sighed. What were a couple more days? It would cost her nothing but a bit of patience and hope that Fawley would give her permission for stairs on his next visit to give Draco some peace of mind that she wouldn't try sneaking up them again.

Slowly, Hermione extended a hand and placed it in his, descending until she was on the bottom step when he stopped her. There she was nearly as tall as he was, and he took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss her, likely in thanks for not fighting him on this one thing. Afterward, she descended and accompanied him to tea just as he requested.

On Fawley's next visit, he granted her permission to use stairs again carefully but banned her from ladder usage. That edict confused her until they finally reached the library on the second floor; they'd gone straight up there as soon as Bumble began to lead the physician away to the traveling room. The library took up two floors and had bookcases that went all the way to the top on three of the walls with the exception of the top three feet. The singular wall that held no bookcases, as well as the top three feet of the ones that did, were filled with windows. The only way to access the upper portions of the bookcases was via massive rolling ladders that were attached to the top of each set of cases. Three-quarters of the room was filled with towering stand-alone bookcases that were as equally tall as their fellows lining the walls. The remainder of the room was comprised of two massive tables that sat end-to-end to make up one large workspace, which sat behind an ensemble of two overfilled armchairs and matching couches that formed a square seating arrangement in front of an enormous fireplace.

It was easy to envision reading here every evening until she fell asleep when Draco interrupted her. "You still have to sleep in your bed. These couches may be comfortable for reading, but they're certainly not fit for sleeping."

"Are you a wizard or not?"

He rolled his eyes at her, took a seat at the end, then snorted as she finally took off to go take a look around. A whoosh let her know that he'd flamboyantly lit a fire, probably to remind her that he was perfectly capable of magic, the smart arse.

She wandered the aisles, floating tomes that caught her fancy back to the tables, starting a collection that would last her the week. When she was satisfied that she had a decent enough head start, she returned to him, snagging a book off the top of a pile as she went by.

She took her seat to find him already reading, and flipped her own book open. The afternoon passed with them each engrossed in their own subject matter. Slowly but surely they worked their way closer to one another until she was pressed against his side, his arm languidly around her shoulders.

He finally threw his book down and plucked hers from her fingers, declaring it was time for them to get some air. He extinguished the flames of the wave of his wand and laughed when she suggested that they just open the windows.

Since he couldn't physically pull her outside, he did what he knew best: bribe her. He promised her free rein to come to his library anytime she wished if she would cooperate and go to meals, outside, or elsewhere when he requested for the rest of the week. He even promised to connect the library's fireplace to her own so she wouldn't have to use the traveling room; she could just enter the library directly whenever she wished.

There was something additional she wanted, and as she was not one to let a golden moment pass, she bartered for reciprocity for the next time he decided to make her come. After that first time in his chair he seemed to crave the moments he was able to make her euphoric. He'd greedily watched her face as she fell apart across his lap again the evening before, and she desperately wanted to see him come undone the same way, so she used the moment to wrangle an agreement from him.

The package deal was too tempting for Hermione to pass up and so the bargain was struck, although she would only ever have agreed to any of it for him. She didn't tell him that, however.

Their last week together passed largely in the library, with the exception of meals, some gardening in the morning, and afternoon walks that got ever longer as the week progressed. He only read to her occasionally after she was able to get up the stairs. What happened more often than not was that he ended up carrying her to bed after she fell asleep on his shoulder while reading some fascinating new tome. It was the quickest week of her life.

Before she knew it, she'd taken her final potions, been cleared by Fawley, and was delivered home by Draco. She thanked him for looking after her, privately admitting to herself that it had been nice being taken care of for once. The next day would see them at work, so he bid her farewell until tomorrow, kissed her tenderly, and left in a swirl of green flames.

As she walked around her house, Hermione noticed it was spotless and didn't at all smell stale. She couldn't help but wonder if Bumble and Bee had been keeping up the place for her over the last month. Once she'd returned though, it seemed like her once cozy home was ill-fitting. Her shower felt too small as she washed her hair and her bed wasn't anywhere near as soft or comfortable as the one she'd slept in at Draco's house. Her pajamas left a lot to be desired as well after a month of rich, soft cottons, and comfortable warm robes and plush slippers. She made a note to ask him where he'd gotten them from so she could acquire a few new nightdresses.

The biggest thing, though, was the lack of company, and the ringing silence that permeated until she turned on the radio. Dinner alone didn't taste nearly as good, even though it was the same grilled cheese and tomato soup she'd had several evenings in the first week she'd spent with him, and it wasn't just the brand differences either. No, it was that outside of the wireless playing quietly in the background, there was nothing else. No gray eyes traveling across to check on her, no witty or snarky commentary sliding out smoothly to goad or bait her into a debate that would turn into deep conversation. He wasn't there with her tea exactly as she liked it or to give her a change of scenery when she needed a boost. The biggest thing, though, was that he wasn't there to soothe her back into dreams before she could really wake up. It ended up being the poorest night of sleep she could remember, and she didn't know what to do about any of it.

See you all next Saturday!