She'd awoken on Friday morning feeling excited to begin her life again and to take the next step toward beginning her new career, one that she could be proud of again. But, a part of her was also a bit saddened, and she couldn't help but feel an aching in her chest, not just at the loss of the pseudo-family that she'd acquired here at The Willows, but at the idea that she'd be waking up without the familiar feel of Draco's arms wrapped around her.

For some reason, they hadn't discussed their plans following their departure from The Willows until the night before. It was almost as if they were both eager to act as if nothing would change, but obviously that was a pipe dream. if she'd learned anything from her time here, it was that change was inevitable and that the best she could do was to roll with it as best as she could.

After they'd had one last bonfire with the rest of the group, they'd made their way back to their room, a clear weight descending upon them the closer they got to their room, and after a tentative, "Are we going to talk about us?" from him, they finally had the discussion that they'd both been putting off as long as they possibly could.

They'd agreed that they did have things that needed to be done separately. Draco still had yet to tell his parents that he was moving out, and he was scheduled to meet with his parole board Friday afternoon to go over the paperwork for his move and to have one last wand check and dip into his mind, neither of which did he want Hermione there to witness—"It's demeaning and horrible, and I'd like to just do it on my own and be done with it, if that's okay."

She understood, of course, and she too had errands that she needed to take care of as soon as possible. She knew the moment that the Wizengamot knew for certain that she was planning to open her own company with the sole purpose of forcing their hand in legislation reform that she'd be fired. She didn't want to give them that leeway.

Instead, she intended to only be home long enough to unpack her belongings, and then she was going to the Ministry to formally resign and pack up her office. She also needed to officially request a meeting, which they would almost certainly deny, but at least she could tell Rita in their next interview that she'd tried.

"Nothing is changing," he'd said as she rolled to face him, her hands instinctively reaching for him. "Not for me."

"Everything." Her fingertips brushed along the stubble of his cheek as she nodded.

Smiling softly, he'd agreed. "Everything."

She'd wanted to invite him to stay with her while he waited for his apartment, but she thought if that was something he'd wanted to do then he would have invited her to the Manor. She supposed though that they needed a few nights apart, if for no other than reason than to make sure that they could.

So, they'd agreed to take the weekend, and they'd meet for lunch on Monday to start finalizing plans for Hearts and Minds—she still wasn't set on the name at all, but the time was quickly approaching when they'd have to make a decision on it one way or the other.

Now, they all stood together beside the Apparation point sharing goodbyes, though it wasn't really goodbye, of course. They'd be seeing one another on Tuesday evening for their first group session post-Willows. But, Hermione still felt heavy saying goodbye, knowing that they would all remain close, of course, but it would never be exactly the same as their time spent here together.

Hermione had just finished hugging Nicola, promising to come for tea on Sunday afternoon, when she turned to find Seamus busy monopolizing Draco's goodbye time, offering to help him move yet again, even though Draco had reminded him countless times that everything was being moved by magic.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were going to miss me, Finnigan."

"That's ridiculous. I can't possibly miss you, mate. We'll just walk the two blocks to your place every few days for good measure," Seamus said, throwing an arm around Parvati's shoulders and turning to leave with a grin on his face.

"He's not kidding, is he?" Draco asked, trying in vain to appear put out.

Hermione lay her head across his chest. "You love it."

"He's grown on me, but if you say that out loud to anyone, I'll deny it."

"I heard that," Dennis said, clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder before pulling Hermione into a hug as well. "But don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

Dennis, like all the rest of them really, had been quite the surprise, and Hermione had come to love him, feeling a strange sisterly sort of affection for him, not unlike the way she felt for Harry. After he Disapparated, she and Draco were left alone.

She turned to face him and found a smirk on his face, his eyes dancing as he brushed her a curl behind her ear.

"What?" she asked, feeling her own involuntary smile growing to match his. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He chuckled before answering her. "I was just thinking about the time I saved your life."

Clearly, his easy smile was indication enough that he wasn't fondly remembering the time he'd actually saved her from his sadistic aunt. She furrowed her brow, not sure what he was referring to.

"On the ropes course."

"Oh Merlin," she said, dropping her forehead onto his chest. He was never going to let her live it down.

"It's a bit surreal to think that that was the first time I touched your bum."

She laughed, the feel of his own rumbling beneath her face, now buried in the front of his jacket. "And I must've done a pretty good job of it." She leaned back when she felt his hands in the back pocket of her jeans.

"Yes, that's what did it for me. You woo'd me fifty feet in the air."

"I do have that sort of charm."

She rolled her eyes before kissing him. He lay his forehead against hers, his face turning serious as he exhaled. "Is it obvious that I'm stalling?"

"Only a bit," Hermione said, feeling her heart jump into her throat at the idea of being away from him.

He sighed, holding her tighter for just a moment. "Two days," he said, pulling away to look down at her, his eyes no longer dancing but now sincere. He brought her hand to his lips and barely brushed a kiss across her knuckles before Disapparating in a flourish of grey and black in front of her.

She'd intentionally not told Harry and Ginny that she'd be home that morning, knowing that they both would have stayed home to welcome her, making a much larger deal of it than it needed to be. So, when she pushed the door open into Grimmauld Place, she wasn't at all surprised to find it completely empty.

She made quick work of unloading her bags and considered dropping down onto her bed just to feel the comfort of her own sheets for a second, but she thought if she lay down, she might actually end up staying there. There was no time like the present, and she wanted to use this forward momentum while she was still itching to get to work.

So, she changed into something more work appropriate and headed directly toward the floo.

This close to lunch, the atrium was mostly empty, and no one even noticed her as she made her way to the lift. However, the reception was quite a bit different once she made it to her floor.

As the lift came to a halt, the calm female voice announcing, "Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," and Hermione stepped out, Natalie, the floor's head receptionist stood, her mouth dropped open in shock before a wide smile replaced it.

"Miss Granger! We weren't expecting you back until next week. How are you?"

Before she even had a chance to answer, Hermione was taken aback as Natalie stepped around the desk and pulled her into a hug. "We've missed you around here."

"Oh, umm, yes. I was able to get here a bit sooner than I anticipated," she said, awkwardly patting Natalie on the back.

"I was so sorry to hear about your, you know, trip," Natalie said, dropping her voice and nodding pointedly, as if Hermione needed that extra indication as to what she was talking about. She swallowed, feeling a lump rising in her throat. She wasn't quite prepared to have this conversation yet, but she'd already reminded herself on countless occasions that she had nothing to be ashamed of. If she was planning to turn the tide on the stigma surrounding mental health, she had to start with herself.

"Oh, that's okay, Natalie. It was well worth it. I—"

"Hermione?"

She turned quickly toward the male voice behind her and found Devon staring at her, his face quite similar to the one of shock worn by Natalie only a moment ago. Outside of a haircut, his sandy blonde waves no longer curling past his ears, he looked exactly the same as he had when she left.

Obviously, she thought. It's been twelve weeks, not twelve years.

"I didn't realize you were coming back in today," he said, folding the stack of paperwork in his hands into the blue folder he was carrying as he stepped toward them, his look of shock morphing into a broad smile. "It's great to see you." His smile faded slightly, and he looked around the room briefly as if searching for someone before turning his attention back toward Hermione. "I've actually been meaning to write you. Can I speak to you for a minute?"

"Um, sure. I was just heading to my office." She turned back toward Natalie and promised to continue their conversation on her way out.

"What is it?" she asked, as she started toward her office, Devon falling in step right beside her.

As they stopped at the doorway of her office, he lowered his voice and looked around again. Hermione followed his gaze and noticed that there was no one around.

"I just wanted to apologize to you," Devon said, and though she had no idea what he was apologizing for, he looked genuinely aggrieved. "I'm so sorry. I didn't at all mean to let the cat out of the bag about your trip, I swear. I mentioned it to Leanne completely by accident and then it just sort of spiraled from there. I am so sorry, Hermione. Really. I—"

"Devon," she said, holding a hand up to stop him. "I have no idea what you're talking about. You told everyone?" She wasn't really angry with him, but she was surprised. She hadn't expected him, and truthfully, she hadn't even remembered telling him really until this exact moment. Honestly, the memory of word vomiting her mental health crisis to him during an awkward silence was embarrassing enough for her to have just blocked it from her thoughts entirely.

"No," he said quickly. "No, I only told Leanne. She was talking about the workload and juggling everything and questioning how you were able to do it all, and I let it slip. There was nothing malicious about it, and we weren't gossiping or anything, I just said that I hoped you were doing well and getting the help that you needed. And then, she told everyone."

Hermione felt her blood pressure start to rise, the heat rising to her face at the prospect that it was these two who had shared with the world where she'd been. Devon continued to ramble, explaining that Leanne hadn't been sharing her business unkindly either. She'd apparently only told anyone after the rumors began to circulate. Once the tabloids were dragging her name through the mud, Leanne had set out merely to take up for her. The L letter to the magazine that had outed her weeks ago made perfect sense now. It was nice actually, well-meaning at least, even if it had terrified her at first.

But Hermione could barely hear him from the pounding in her ears. At some point during their conversation, others had come out of their offices, likely on their way to lunch, and she felt like everyone was staring at her. Logically speaking, they were likely staring at her because she'd just come back after a long break from work; obviously, they'd be staring at her. But in her mind, she couldn't shake the thought that they were staring at her and filling in the gaps for whatever they thought was wrong with her.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of him speaking, the smell of Natalie's donuts on her desk, and counted her breaths.

This is nothing, she reminded herself. She didn't even need to rely on potions ingredients. She took a deep breath, steadying her racing thoughts, and opened her eyes.

"It's okay, Devon," she said, interrupting him again and forcing a smile despite the lingering tightness in her chest. "It's really fine. It was going to come out sooner or later anyway."

He exhaled forcefully, clearly relieved that she wasn't angry with him. "Still, you asked me not to say anything, and I really am sorry."

"It's okay. I intend on talking about it all pretty soon regardless. No harm done. But thank you for telling me. I really appreciate it."

She excused herself and walked into her office, leaning against the door as soon as it closed behind her. She didn't even have to remind herself. She could hear Alys's voice in her mind without even trying.

You can allow this to become a thing, or you can control it. Just breathe.

Hermione took a deep breath, reminding herself once again that this was nothing. They hadn't all been staring at her thinking that she was a loon, and even if they had all been staring at her thinking that she was a loon, did it even matter?

No.

She allowed herself another moment to collect her thoughts and put herself back on track with what she'd been planning. Her original idea had been to go directly to Gethsemane Prickle's office and formally resign. She wasn't exactly an employee of the Ministry, she was meant to be more of a liaison, but she did fall beneath their purview. Despite not thinking highly of the Ministry in regard to the way they were still dragging their feet on basic rights, none of that was Ms. Prickle's doing, and Hermione had quite a lot of respect for the woman, even if she could be doing more.

But now, after feeling on the verge of a panic attack on day one of leaving treatment, she wanted to take the time to calm down before having yet another difficult conversation. So instead of making her way toward the head of the department's office, she transformed a small end table into a box and began packing up her things.

She'd neatly stacked all of her books in first—by hand, of course—before she started collecting her personal items off her desk. It wasn't until then that she realized all of a sudden that she'd worked in this office for almost a year and other than these few photos and a nameplate, there was absolutely nothing in here that really reflected her at all. She was in the process of thinking up ways to remedy that if and when she ever managed to have another office when a knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened her mouth, but before she had a chance to say anything, the door opened just enough for Ms. Prickle's head to pop through, a beaming smile on her face. "A little birdie told me you'd dropped in a few days early. How are—" Her smile immediately fell as she took in the now full box on the edge of Hermione's desk. "Are you quitting?"

"Umm," Hermione began, fighting the urge to look away. She'd had a plan, damnit. She was going to march into Ms. Prickle's office, head held high, and tell her that she was leaving, setting out to change the world like she'd always wanted to with a strategy in place quite a bit more advanced than knitting hats for house-elves in her spare time. But, now, Mrs. Prickle had stepped into her office, lifting her half-moon glasses to rest in her silvery pixie cut, and thrown a wrench into the entire blueprint.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I'm so sorry to leave short notice like this. I really had no idea that I was going to leave permanently, or I would have quit four months ago when I first put in for a leave of absence."

Mrs. Prickle folded her arms and looked down her nose, entirely too reminiscent of Dumbledore for Hermione's liking. "Why?" she asked. Well, one of the things she'd always liked about the woman was that she didn't shy away from tough conversations.

Hermione supposed there was no reason beating around the bush. "I intend to start my own company actually."

After a beat, the hardened expression on Ms. Prickle's face morphed into a pleased smile. "Good. I always thought you were a fish far too big for the pond they'd given you here." She walked forward, dropping into the armchair across from Hermione's desk. "But, before you go, I wanted to drop in and tell you that I'm retiring. I'd actually already put a meeting into your calendar for next week." She inclined her head toward the magi-scheduler on the wall beside Hermione's desk, and next Thursday, scrawled in purple looping letters, was "Meeting with Geth, 3:00pm." "Please, sit. Let's chat."

Hermione took the seat beside her rather than behind her desk, feeling more than a little strange about the entire affair. So far, this day wasn't turning out at all how she'd planned.

"I meant what I said. I think you can do far better than what the Ministry can give you, but"—she leveled her gaze at Hermione, the turquoise bangles on her wrists tinkling together as she folded her hands in her lap—"I'd be remiss if I didn't present you with all your options." She waited a moment, always one for theatrics, before she continued. "As I said, I'm retiring, and I've been asked to name my replacement. I know for a fact that you've had your eye on my job since you first started here. I think you'd do wonderfully, and I'd love to submit your name."

Hermione sat dumbfounded. She had been waiting for this job, the head of the department, but she didn't expect to be on the path to getting it any time within the next decade let alone now.

"I—I don't understand. I'd be passing over at least a dozen other people to get the position." As Hermione spoke, Ms. Prickle nodded.

"Yes, you would. But, you're the best one for the job."

"Why? How? I don't even work for the department, not really." Hermione felt like the world had just spun out of control again. All the plans she'd made, the pages and pages of outlines for this company, this dream to try and enact change. Was this the best way? Being the squeaky wheel, the flaw inside the machine?

"You have the right heart for the job," Ms. Prickle said firmly.

Hermione inhaled deeply, considering all the new information and grasping desperately for the right answer. She knew what she wanted, or at least she thought she did. Now, she wasn't sure what she knew.

"However, tell me about your idea, and maybe I can help." Ms. Prickle winked, giving her a cheeky grin. "I've been around the block a time or two, and I might have a bit of wisdom to share if you'll allow it."

Hermione spoke for at least an hour, going over all of her details for what she had in mind for the company. From advocating for human rights and humane treatment in Azkaban to changing the tide on the way the world viewed werewolves and house-elves, all of her ideas led back to antiquated legislation within the Ministry. They would have their work cut out for them to change public perception first. Then, with the help of the Wizarding populace behind them, they could elicit change within the Wizengamot.

Theoretically.

After Hermione finished laying out her plans, Ms. Prickle remained silent. Her eyes directed toward the wall beside them, but she was clearly mulling over Hermione's ideas. The first words out of her mouth were not any Hermione had been expecting at all.

"Can I help?"

When Hermione stepped back through her floo after finishing up at the Ministry, she felt like she was walking on air. Ms. Prickle had given her multiple ideas on improving the original plans and she'd even started drafting up some additions of her own.

"I can't pay you," Hermione had said. "I'm not even sure I'll make a salary to be honest."

"Honey," she'd replied, "I'm retiring with full benefits. They can't take that away from me once I'm gone. I don't need your money."

So, before she even had a name for her company, she already had three employees, if she counted herself.

Hermione shared her plans with Harry and Ginny over a quiet dinner that night. Thankfully, Harry knew her well enough to know that she didn't want anyone over and she certainly didn't want a welcome-home party, so the three of them enjoyed Chinese takeout together, and Hermione turned in early, eager to jot down all the ideas she'd gotten from Ms. Prickle.

But after writing them all down, she still felt too antsy to sleep, and she wanted nothing more than to floo to the Manor to talk to Draco about it all.

He'd been on her mind off and on all day, but it had surprisingly never been an aching in her gut or an overwhelming need to have him nearby, which she'd been fearing. Honestly, after having not gone a single day without seeing him for the last three months, she'd been worried that she would have been miserable without him. That had been her main reason in not pushing something sooner than Monday. She needed to know that they weren't relying too heavily on one another, that they were together because they wanted to be not because they'd simply traded one unhealthy trait for another.

She missed him, yes, but more than anything, she just wanted to talk to him about her day. She had good news, or at least new news, and he was the first person who had popped into her mind to share it with when she'd left her office to head home. She'd been hoping she'd run into him at the Ministry actually, though she knew when he left he'd be coming from an intrusive meeting with his parole board, so the last thing he probably wanted at that moment was to hear about her time with Gethsemane Prickle.

So, she took a shower, trying her best to push Draco from her thoughts, to give him this time to himself on his first night out of treatment as well.

But it was no use.

After lying in bed, tossing and turning and fighting with herself ad nauseum about how ridiculous it would be to just show up at his house uninvited, she threw the blankets off with a huff. She started for the door, her bare feet padding across the rug as she lost the battle and decided to just show up after all, but a soft rapping against her bedroom window turned her on a dime.

She spun around, and the smile that spread across her face was completely involuntary as she took in the large eagle owl perched on the ledge outside her window, a roll of parchment tied around one ankle. As she opened the window, the cold November air flew in along with the owl, but her mind was too fixated on the note it was carrying to worry about the chill across her skin.

She offered the bird a treat from the bowl beside her desk and unrolled the scroll.

This was stupid.

Can I come over?

- D

The weight she'd been carrying, the one that worried about what they were after leaving the small, safe space they'd shared at The Willows, the one that said she was being ridiculous and obsessive about wanting to be near him every day, fell from her chest, and she almost forgot to attach her response—Please.—before letting the owl fly back to the Manor.

She went downstairs, frustrated with herself that she'd never added her own fireplace to the floo network after she'd moved in, and waited for Draco. His owl must have been incredibly fast, because after only a few moments, emerald flames roared to life in front of her, and Draco stepped through, still wearing the suit he must've been wearing to the Ministry.

She was so taken with the sight of him in a full suit after not seeing him in one for so long, that she almost didn't notice the apologetic expression he was wearing, the disheveled state of his hair, or the way he was twirling the ring on his pinky as he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know we talked about it, but I just…"

"Why are you apologizing?"

"You wanted to have a few days, on your own, to get settled, and I… I just wanted to see you."

She stepped into him, taking his face in her hands so he would look at her and not his hands. When his eyes found hers, his brow was furrowed, not in agitation or confusion but as if he expected her to be upset with him. Without a word, she stood onto her tiptoes and kissed him, sighing as his lips framed hers, and she felt him do the same, the tension in his shoulders fading and the strain of the muscle in his jaw relaxing beneath her palm.

When she opened her eyes again, he was looking down at her, the worried expression gone from his face, and she said with a grin, "We are idiots. I thought you wanted a few days, and I was trying to give you space."

"Bollocks. I never want space," he said at once, leaning down to capture her lips again.

As they broke the kiss, they both spoke at once.

"How was your meeting with the board?"

"Did you resign?"

"Yes, it was—"

"Yes, and I talked to—"

They both laughed, and Hermione said, "You first."

"It was awful," Draco said with a frown. "They checked my wand for dark magic and used Legilimency to make sure I wasn't up to anything. Clearly, they've been reading the Prophet."

"That's ridiculous! They can't do that!" she said, righteous anger bubbling up inside her on his behalf.

"Susan told them the same thing, but I just went along with it. It was easier just to play nicely." He shrugged. "But it's over now. I have to come in for a wand check once a month for the next year, but otherwise, I'm a free man."

"That's… that's—"

"Fair," Draco said firmly, brushing his hands down her arms.

She took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry. I'm just angry on your behalf. You don't deserve that."

He shrugged again. "I'll take it. It's certainly better than Azkaban. What about you? Who did you talk to?"

His finger tips slid through hers as she stepped closer to him. "It can wait."

As she stood on her tiptoes again, hoping to kiss the smirk from his lips, Harry's voice on the landing above them forced them both to freeze.

"Was that the floo, 'Mi?" Harry stopped as he took in the scene in front of the fireplace, Hermione in her sleeping shorts and tank top, and Draco's hand beneath the hem of her shirt, resting on her lower back. "Gross," Harry said, his nose curling up in disgust, and without another word, he turned on his heel and marched back up the stairs.

"You know, I'm beginning to think that Potter doesn't like me very much," Draco said.

Hermione stifled a grin and said, "I don't know what would give that idea."

Harry's voice echoed from the stairs. "I don't," he yelled just before the door shut with a click.

"Come on." She laughed as she started to pull him toward the stairs, but then stopped. "I suppose I should ask," she said, turning back to face him, "since we're both clearly still morons, are you staying?"

"If that's—"

"I want you to stay."

His grip on her hip tightened as he nodded. "I want to stay."

She led him upstairs, pulling him through her bedroom door, and his lips were on hers before the door even closed behind them. Her fingers sought out the buttons on his coat, and she quickly pushed it off his shoulders, sliding it down his arms as she shook it off him.

His hands felt like lightning across her skin, and she felt stupid for thinking that this would ever change, for thinking for even a split second that things would be different once they left The Willows. His lips trailed fire down her neck, sparks shooting through her with every twirl of his tongue across her skin as she pulled his shirt from his pants, sending buttons flying in her eagerness to feel him.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, his chuckle breathing cool air across the wet skin of her throat, the chill a sharp contrast against the heat coursing through her.

"I was about to storm through your floo in my sleeping clothes when your owl arrived."

He made a low sound, his teeth sinking further into the spot just above her collarbone, and her eyes fluttered closed. In one swift motion, he pulled her shirt over her head, throwing it across the room as she snatched his belt from the loops of his slacks. She could barely make out the deep slate in his eyes as she stepped out of her sleeping shorts and his belt buckle clanked to the floor beside them.

The sound pulled her back to reality for a split second, long enough for her to reach for her wand on the table beside them and cast a silencing charm around her room. She'd barely turned back around before he'd scooped her up. His hands lifted her just beneath the bum and wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling a squeak from her lips in surprise. She felt the wall against her back, the rise and fall of his chest against hers, and his mouth on her skin, and as he pushed into her the steady heat that had been coursing through her grew to a blaze.

For a split second, she forgot herself, almost losing her balance as her legs shook, but she held onto him in the same way she had been over the last few months, tethering herself to him and feeling whole in a way that she hadn't before him.

She felt the familiar tightening all over as she clung to him, basking in the words he spoke into her ear.

"You're so perfect."

"You feel so good."

"I fucking love you."

Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids as she clinched her eyes shut, coming apart beneath his touch and feeling him spill into her. They stayed that way for a moment, their hearts beating in tandem and the breaths rising together like a chorus in the room around them.

She felt him swallow as he turned to lower her down onto her bed, catching himself on his elbows above her. His nose ran up her neck, nuzzling her skin before he rolled onto his back beside her. She immediately crawled onto his chest, straddling his hips as she pulled her blanket around them and dropped her cheek just beneath his chin.

"I meant what I said." The words reverberated against her cheek as he spoke, echoing through her. "I never want space. I want you." His fingers trailed up her spine, breaking goosebumps across her skin.

"I want you too," she said, kissing his chest and tasting the salt of his sweat on her lips.

"I don't care if that means we're being codependent. I'm sure Susan will have something to say about it, but I want you to live with me. I want to go to sleep every night with you just like this, and I want to wake up every morning with your frizzy hair in my face."

"Was that really necessary?" she asked, pinching his hip.

"Ow! I'm just being honest." He swatted her hand away before gently pulling her chin enough for her to look up at him. The moonlight washed across his face, shining across his eyes and revealing the sincerity in his gaze. "Move in with me. You can even bring your cat. Assuming that he doesn't try to murder my dog."

"If you and I can manage without killing one another, I'm sure the pets will do just fine."

She kissed him again, and he rolled to the side, dropping her onto the bed beside him but keeping her thigh around his waist like always.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I know what I want."

"Me too." Lying face to face with him, she realized she'd never been more sure of something in her life. Her fingertips trailing up and down his palm, she thought back to what she'd said the night before, in group. She knew she could never again be the Hermione Granger she'd been before the war. She'd never be the innocent but swotty, know-it-all she'd been at eleven, but she was growing to love the woman she was now, not just in spite of her scars and her past but even more because of them.

As Draco's eyes fluttered closed in front of her, his breathing dropping into a slow, steady rhythm across her face, she knew he would never be the same person he was at eleven either.

She's learned that for better or worse, with or without war, that's how the world was, and both of them had grown into the people they were now.

Only a few short months ago, her accidental magic was growing substantially worse, and she was spending far more time than she cared to admit pretending she was okay and hiding from her friends, her problems, and herself. She knew at the time that she was reaching her end, her limit at how much control she had on the ever-fraying tapestry of her life, but she hadn't the least idea how to patch herself back together.

Instead, she'd just given up on ever being normal or having any semblance of a normal life again. But, in some strange twist of the universe, they'd managed to find the happiness in one another that neither of them thought they would ever have or deserve.

She kissed him one last time, tucking herself further into the space between his arms, and her last thought before sleep claimed them both was that normal was overrated.

Who wanted normal, when you could have everything.