Work Text
Behind the safety of Shell Cottage's enchantments, Hermione found herself relaxing. Or at least relaxing more than she had at any point in the last year. Just being by the sea had a calming effect on her. Her days were spent out by the seashore, watching the waves crash on the sand. Her nights were a different story. Those nights she couldn't sleep, she found herself curled up in the small library situated in the attic, pouring over book after book. There was an overstuffed chair that she liked to claim on the really bad nights. The nights the nightmares wouldn't shake, and her anxiety potion didn't work. On those nights, it didn't matter that they had lost the war. She was determined to find a way for them to right the wrongs. To find a way to win this blasted war once and for all. It was one of those nights when she heard the attic door creak. Her wand was pointed at the door before Bill had even managed to step over the threshold.
“Sorry.” Her voice was soft as she lowered her wand and eventually placed it back in the holster. Bill gave her a knowing smile as he sank down into the chair next to her.
“Can't sleep?” Hermione smirked when he deflected but was grateful for the distraction.
“Not tonight.” She usually never elaborated on her nightmares or her anxiety. It was only the fact they had lived together for nearly a year that allowed him to pick up on her small tells. Bill wordlessly summoned a book, and Hermione knew he was settling in. Pages turned at steady intervals, but they didn't speak for the longest time. That was one thing Hermione liked about their relationship. Bill knew when to push her for answers and when to let her marinate in her own head.
“I wish the nightmares would stop.” She said after a while, closing her book and turning to face him. “I know it's the price to pay for this war. My burden to carry as if where, but I'm tired. So damn tired, and the war's not over yet.” At her declaration, Bill raised an eyebrow but didn't speak. Most nights, she decried the fact they had lost the war and were shuffled into hiding because their lives depended on it.
Tonight was going to follow a different pattern if her wording was anything to go by.
“What makes you say the war's not over?” Bill chose his words carefully, but suddenly there was a light shining in her eyes he hadn't seen in a long time.
“Run away with me?” Her voice was so earnest, and so full of hope, that Bill hated to break the silence that stretched out between them. A chasm that wouldn't close, no matter how hard he tried. Reaching for her hand, he interlocked their fingers before giving her one of his rare smiles.
It was so damn hard to smile with everything that had happened.
“Where would we go if we did?” It wouldn't hurt to indulge her in this. They had so few good days that an indulgent fantasy was worth spinning out.
“We could go anywhere. Somewhere where the war didn't reach. Outside his grasp. Maybe somewhere I could return to school?” There was so much hope brimming in those eyes, so much hope. Enough hope, that the dreariness of their humdrum existence started to lift.
“We could go to France, or America, even.” Bill said, his eyes twinkling as a true smile crossed her face.
“Maybe even back to Egypt?” Hermione lifted her eyebrow, knowing the offer would entice him and when he broke out in laughter she joined in. By the time the laughter settled, Hermione had shifted from her own chair to settle in his lap. His fingers ran through her hair with the familiarity of a lover as her heart rate slowed before she drifted off to sleep.
As he watched her sleep, Bill made a vow. The resistance would rise again, even if it meant their deaths. The wizarding world couldn't go out like this, not when there was so much as a shred of hope left in them.