Edward and Minerva had fought for years. Even their supposedly golden newlywed years were stained with bitter disputes. After many years, Minerva was tired.

Once it was clear that both boys had been tucked in, Edward started on Minerva, as he did on most nights, while she pulled on her nightgown behind the barrier of the closet door. "I've had just enough of these outbursts in front of the boys."

Minerva emerged with a sour expression on her face. She had dressed in a simple white sleeping dress, and looked very careworn. "I suppose I'm just so excited with our new guest that I just got a little carried away," she answered him tartly.

"I suppose you did." Edward said dryly, impatiently.

"I'm just not used to having such intelligent conversation and attractive company." This was, of course, a direct dig at Edward. Minerva sobered and folded into herself. "Imagine what those people in the funny farm are like" she muttered, almost inaudibly.

"I got an example standing right in front of me." Edward said flatly.

Minerva was clearly hurt, but she was also alone. She had never told anyone about her time in the psychiatric ward. And why would she if that was all the response she got? Why would she ever let herself be loved if no one was there to offer it? She couldn't even be vulnerable with her clearly insensitive husband.

If he was going to make this a game, she would just have to play along. She smiled at him and jutted out her hip, "Well, thank you very much." Minerva struck a pose, a facetious smile dampening her features: "In all my splendor, in all my glory."

Edward, unfazed, continued. "Do yourself a favor and go easy on Hermione."

"Go easy on her? What do you think I've been doing all this time?"

"That was a warning." The man really didn't know how to quit.

"Lovely dear. Now would you mind getting the hell out of my room?" Minerva was on her last nerve, though it was clear that Edward wasn't giving up. Oh how she loathed him, though there was nothing she could do about it. One just didn't get divorced here.

"...oh you didn't have a breakdown. you got bored..." "...it's not over pal it's just beginning." "...the hospital is just a short plane ride away."

In her room, Hermione heard the every blow of the fight between Minerva and Edward. It was too much like home. Too much like the drunken fights her father used to start. Edward's insensitivity pained her, Minerva's chagrin became her own. The battle that Hermione was fighting herself was now reflected between two people. The negative energy rushed through her, pouring itself into her struggle to open the window. In one split second, the window shattered. Air poured into the room. The struggle ended.

Edward rushed into her room, his face wearing a mask of concern. "What happened? You alright"

Hermione blushed. She was wearing just her shorts and a thin tank top for bed, and Edward had a clear view of everything. "I was trying to open the window" she laughed at herself. "I wanted some air," she said. As the words left her mouth, she realized the multiple facets of her intentions.

Edward only chuckled and handed her a small broom and dust pan. "Now you'll have it"

Hermione felt horrible. She had not only destroyed a part of their home, but she felt like she was privy to something that she shouldn't have. "I'm terribly sorry." She wasn't sure what exactly she was sorry for.

"Don't worry, we'll fix it in the morning." Even though other things that more urgently required fixing. "Watch the glass."

"Goodnight."