Prologue

Hermione bit her bottom lip and shook out her hands as she paced back and forth across her bedroom floor. It was almost midnight, the Witching Hour, and she couldn't sleep. Her husband was working late and she was all alone. She wondered what magic she had within her mind to calm the storm within her soul. She brushed her fingers through her hair and was reminded of the last time she was with him.

His hands gripped her hips as she arched her back against the doorway. He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder as his mouth licked and sucked his way around her pussy. She turned her head to the side and moaned deeply as one of his hands made its way up to tighten around her breast. His mouth began to move faster and she ran her fingers through his hair. He looked up at her and she almost lost it.

She squeezed her eyes tight and sank to the floor. Sitting cross-legged, Hermione tried to focus on her breathing and relaxation techniques. She had never been one to lose control (even punching Malfoy was a calculated move) and she was not used her thoughts controlling her. She started counting in with each breath. She imagined the flame of a single flickering candle and began to focus on that image in her mind

He looked up at her and she almost lost it. He began to stand and trailed small kisses up her stomach to her chest. Hermione whimpered at the lack of contact on her clitoris until he placed his fingers gently on her. His mouth found hers as he began to rub his fingers over her soft spot and she kissed his bottom lip. She gently licked around his mouth, tasting her juices on him and smiled slightly when she heard his sharp intake of breath. "Gods, Hermione, you're so…" he leaned back and looked into her eyes. Then his eyes roved to the wall above her head.

Hermione brought her mind back to the candle, its warm, flickering glow was a solitary comfort. She imagined herself floating gently above the floor, clearing her mind to everything but the candle. Her breathing began to slow as did her mind. This meditative technique became her lifesaver after the War at Hogwarts. She no longer heard the screams of her dying classmates during the day, and only rarely in her dreams. Her meditation practice helped soothe her mind when she couldn't stop thinking about him.

Then his eyes roved to the wall above her head. Hermione turned and let out a breath of air. Above her head was a picture of her and her husband, on their wedding day, years earlier. He turned and walked away from her. Hermione ran after him, trying to adjust her clothing and almost fell over her pants pooled around her ankles. "No, wait!" She caught up to him and pulled his arm back. When he turned, she put her hands on either side of his face. He looked down and leaned his forehead against hers. "I want this. I want you," He said, looking up at her, "but I feel so guilty. We can't do this anymore." He gently stepped away from her and Hermione watched as he walked to the floo and disappeared into the fire.

The candle flickered in her mind and went out, the smoke trailing gently up through the air. Hermione opened her eyes and realized she was hoving an inch off the ground. She softly lowered her body to the ground and stood up. She walked over to her dresser and picked up the two way mirror that Aberforth had given her as a wedding present. She had to speak to him. They had to resolve what had happened between them. She spoke loudly and clearly to the mirror.

"Harry Potter."