April 4th

Following her heavenly hot shower and a simple meal, Hermione found herself too tired to stay awake. The issue of the sleeping arrangements caused a few moments of uncomfortable awkwardness. When she'd been stuck in his room at the Leaky Cauldron burning up with a high fever, there had been no question where she would sleep. There was only one bed. In the house that he'd grown up in, however, there were several empty bedrooms.

She appreciated that he didn't immediately make the inappropriate suggestion that she share his bed. Everything was already complicated enough as it was. They made polite, inconsequential conversation while she devoured the first hot meal she'd had in days. Whatever his injuries had been during the explosion, he appeared to be improving. It was evident that he was still quite exhausted from the nasty business of healing. When neither of them could hide their yawns, he showed her to his younger sister's old bedroom, only two doors down from his.

The bed was adequate, hardly luxurious. She knew the man had expensive taste when it came to where he had to sleep. What his guests had to endure was of no concern. He had always had funny ways about him. Her usual rule of sleeping in her clothes so as to be ready to run at a moment's notice seemed silly. While living in the Resistance's village, she didn't worry about what she wore to bed because it seemed highly unlikely that her husband or one of his cohorts would be able to find her in the middle of the stronghold. Her biggest worry was actually whether or not someone from the inside was going to harm her while she slept. What she wore didn't seem important. Likewise, if she was uncovered staying in Augustus' house that night, she had bigger problems to worry about than her attire.

As tired as her body was, it was difficult to fall asleep. Though she'd lost count the number of nights that she'd actually slept under that roof in her past, she had never done so without Augustus lying next to her in the room down the corridor. Every sound in the old house elevated her discomfort. It might have only been the wind, but she allowed her mind to imagine so much worse that she feared she wouldn't find rest there at all.

Sometime after midnight she gave up trying to ignore the creaking and groaning of the house. She threw off the covers. Her bare feet padding down the carpeted corridor sounded loud in her ears. She hoped that she wasn't waking up Augustus. He might have been trying to play down the severity of his injuries, but she knew him well enough to know that he had suffered in the explosion. Rest was necessary if he hoped to return to his former self. And as much as he might have groaned and protested if she said so out loud, she knew that his age was a hindrance to his healing.

"Hermione?"

She groaned. All of her care to be as quiet as possible had been for nothing. Stepping inside the once familiar bedroom, she could see the outline of her former paramour raised up on his side staring in her direction. Augustus might have been covered in shadows, but she still knew how to read him simply by the tone of his voice. He was sleepy and fighting it. He was also worried about her.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. Are you all right?"

"Can't sleep in the other room."

His soft chuckle brought a reluctant smile to her face. She was grateful for the darkness of the room. He didn't need to know all of her secrets. Remembering exactly where the edge of the bed was, Hermione lifted up the covers on the side she used to always sleep on. Augustus didn't protest as she slid in beside him.

"I hope you don't mind."

The wizard's response to her statement was to move across the bed close enough to her that he was able to settle in behind her and wrap his arms around her frame. Hermione melted into the embrace. How many years had it been since they were last in the same position? London at the Leaky Cauldron didn't count. She had been sick and he'd been the perfect gentleman always staying on his side of the bed. Prior to sharing that bed with him, it had been over thirteen years. Amazing how much time could pass and it still feel like none at all.

"I think we're both too tired for anything other than sleep."

Augustus laughed. His breath tickled the back of Hermione's neck. She could close her eyes and imagine that they were still stuck in the past. Her marriage didn't take place, her son didn't exist, the day that she tried to murder her husband certainly hadn't happened. It was easy to forget all of the worst aspects of their relationship when she was held in his arms again. There were very valid reasons why they ended their relationship and it wasn't all because the Dark Lord ordered him to return to his wife.

"To Hell with sleep. We can both sleep when we're dead."

She knew he was only teasing. While she shoveled the meal he'd prepared for her while she was in the shower in her mouth, she watched him swallow multiple potions. Concerned, she'd all but forced him to tell her what was wrong with him. At first he tried to wave off her concerns until he remembered how stubborn she was. He gave her only the barest of facts. If she was there any length of time, she would drag the entire story out of him. Until then, she knew enough to know that he was too injured and too medicated on potions to do much more than squeeze her breast with his hand and make a crude joke about his non-existent erection poking her in the back.

He had been fortunate. Like Draco said, he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The bomb went off only steps from where he was seated. It was intended to cause as much damage as possible to the Death Eaters leading the meeting. Her husband and a couple of others were the prime targets. Augustus' insistence that he be near the action so as not to miss anything almost got him killed. He'd broken several bones that had to be set by Healers. His left ear still rang and when it stopped, he was warned that he might never hear out of it again. There was still shrapnel stuck in his side that his Healers promised would eventually come out once they learned a spell that was capable of such a delicate procedure without injuring his internal organs further. Muggle weapons were still so foreign to them. He really should have been dead. Likely only his own personal brand of stubbornness kept him alive.

"I'm glad you are all right, Augie. I was worried about you."

The press of his lips in her hair was his response. She didn't need anything further. What they had would always be complicated. Words weren't necessary. Still cradled in his tight embrace, Hermione finally relaxed enough to drift off to sleep.