wind - Dramione

8

"'Mione! I've been worried sick!" The second she walked through the door of her flat, her husband embraced her, desperately wrapping his arms around her, tightening like a python until she felt light headed, "Where did you go last night? I came back right after I left, I felt so bad, but you were gone! Are you alright, did something happen to you?"

As his arms were snaked around her middle, she wasn't sure what to do with her arms. Hugging him back didn't seem to be something she was ready to do. But as he continued talking about how bad he felt and how worried he was when he found her missing, she rested her arms on his back, gently rubbing to comfort him. He was concerned after all, and concern came from a place of love, always.

"You'll never guess! I went for a walk just to get some air and I left my wand here!" she was desperate to have a story for him to believe. No way in hell would she ever tell him she spent the night at another man's flat, let alone Draco Malfoy's. "I just called Luna and she let me stay the night."

"That's your wand in your hand, innit, Hermione?" he chuckled to himself, simply believing she must've not realized until morning. She left out a soft, nervous titter, it was a miracle he could think so little of his wife. In any other scenario, she would've scolded him for thinking that way, but this time she let it go, fearful of what would happen if he figured out she was lying.

A certain amount of guilt hung over her as she walked away from him into their bedroom. She was lying. And about another man! Sure, it was just Malfoy, but she was lying all the same. There was no place for lies in matrimony. Noises of ceramics bumping together from the kitchen told her she had the bathroom to herself for a while.

The mirror in front of her held a horrid sight. The left side of her face was an inconsistent purple and yellow, the discoloration stood out from her generally dewy, cashew colored complexion. Her fingers grazed the skin around her eye, the slightest touch making her face tighten and burn. There was an itch moving throughout the bruise that she just couldn't scratch. The more she scratched, the more it hurt, and the more it hurt, the more it itched; a vicious circle. A part of her wondered how he could've done it. To slap her for confronting him about lying. And throw things about, hit her with the vase he had once given her flowers in. It was a blessing her cheekbone hadn't fractured or she didn't need stitches.

Wand in hand, she swiped disillusionment charms across her face, evening out any discoloration in her skin tone. She couldn't do anything about the bruising; she trusted Draco's method and told him she would continue to mend her wounds by the same principle—magic will not heal my wounds she told herself.

Her day was to be spent with Ginny who was 8 months pregnant with either James Sirius Potter or Molly Minerva Potter. It was a welcome distraction, but a tiring one as well.

Their day together ended quite quickly as Ginny was getting a bit sick after their lunch. Hermione brought her back to Harry, saying it was probably enough excitement for one morning. Much to Ginny's dismay, whining and all, Hermione left their flat after saying goodbye to Albus and Lily, who were sneakily asking her if she had any candy in her purse.

She had the entire day ahead of her as she wasn't ready to go back to her flat. To her husband. Her mind slid back to the Browning Boys case. Guilt jabbed her heart, knowing she was going nowhere during actual work hours with her useless partner, she decided to go looking for answers on her own.

After disapparating from Grimmauld Place, Hermione found herself on a street in London. After her experience with Winker's family with Ronan, she wasn't sure where else to start, so she went back. Maybe they would be more willing to talk if Ronan wasn't with her? It was a long shot, she knew this, but she had to do something.