Hermione always knew something was wrong. There had always been a feeling, a voice telling her that this would never work out. For months she'd prayed, hoped, begged for that voice of doubt to leave and then one fateful night it did.
It just left.
It was no longer nagging her 24/7, convincing her that her love story was destined to end with heartbreak, it no longer told her that her own husband did not love her. At first, she assumed it left because it was wrong, but then a second thought crossed her mind.
What if that pestering, annoying little voice trapped in her subconscious was right.
So, as one does, she sat down in their living room, waiting. Waiting for him to come home with a random slag on his back, kissing his neck passionately, giggling as he blushed profusely.
After what felt like hours, but could have been just seconds, an overwhelming panic took possession of her.
Am I not good enough?
Why isn't he home yet?
What did I do wrong?
She hadn't even realised that her breathing had accelerated or that she was shaking violently.
"Mione? Why are you up—fuck what's wrong?" A gentle, concerned voice asked her.
She felt herself being lifted into someone's strong arms and rushed out to the balcony. She was placed onto the ground allowing her to stand but remained in their grip.
Eventually she returned to her previous state of complete awareness, her other senses returned as her vision cleared.
She breathed in and out steadily, noting down what she could see, feel and smell.
She could smell mint, citrus and... rose?
Why the fuck did she smell rose?
"Darling are you okay?" he asked softly, she looked up at him and frowned "Where were you?" she croaked in a small, raw voice.
"Potter gave me more paperwork earlier and I lost track of time," he said as he caressed her cheek, "Now tell me what's wrong?".
She took her gaze from him and looked out to the view; he'd always joked about how shitty it was. For all they could see were buildings, cars, and streets but still she found it beautiful. She loved to admire the intricate designs and marvellous architecture.
"Mione, please tell me."
"Do you still love me?" She never tore her eyes from her front.
"What?" he asked.
"You heard me Draco. Do you still love me or not?"
"Where's this all coming from? Of course love you, what type of question is that."
"It's just- I just feel like our love is one sided," she spoke in an uneven voice.
"Hermione Jean Granger I love you with my whole heart. Don't you dare forget that."
"Is there someone else?" she asked, ignoring his last remark.
"What the fuck! No, of course there is no one else. I want you and only you."
She felt him staring at her.
"Why do you smell of rose?" she asked as she finally looked at him.
An expression unknown to her flashed across his eyes.
"Who is it?"
He remained silent.
She looked away from him and walked forward until she met the railing.
