Mirielle looked down at her husband of five years now and smiled. He had fallen asleep reading again. She picked up the heavy volume, inserted the fine red feather he used as a bookmark, and placed it on the table next to him. Only yesterday the term had ended and he was free to relax. As she sat down on the couch across from him she studied his face. He was a strong man with hard features, but to her he was beautiful, even more so now that his face didn't contort with terror brought on by painful dreams. He never spoke about the dreams and she didn't question him any longer.

"Don't worry my love," He had told her. "You sooth my pain. There is a darkness in my past that I don't wish to relive, I wish to forget."

So, she never asked again and held him close those nights his dreams were wroth with terror.

The dreams hadn't reoccurred for the last four years and their life together was happy.

After watching him sleep for a few minuets she heard the dryer down in the basement buzz. She rose once more to her feet and made her way to the laundry room.

Mirielle loved the smell of clean laundry. She laughed to herself, remembering when she had first taught her husband how to use the washer and dryer. The man was a genius; however, he couldn't seem to grasp laundry. He had been upset when his sweater came out two sizes to small the first time he tried to use "the infernal machine" and refused to use it again. She pulled the load of dark clothing from the dryer with a smile. He really did have a short temper with some things.

She piled the clothes into the laundry basket and headed back toward the stairs. Just as she reached them she noticed her husband's workroom light was on. She put the basket down on the bottom step and went to turn it off; he had a habit of forgetting to turn off the switch when he left the room, she often wondered if he expected it to switch of automatically.

Mirielle was fascinated by her husband's workroom. As the head of the university's chemistry department, he was constantly researching something or another. Hundreds of bottles, large and small, filled with mysterious substances, lined the far end of the room on shelves. There were two main tables, both covered in interconnected vials and test tubes. She glanced around the room to make sure nothing else had been left on and then switch out the light.

After pouring herself a glass of iced tea Mirielle began folding laundry. Most of it was her husband's for while she wore more pale blues and pinks to match her fair features; his clothing was primarily black or very dark colors. She lifted up a cotton turtleneck he had worn yesterday. Most of his shirts had collars of some type. He was somewhat sensitive about the scar on his neck.

Just as she finished folding the last piece of laundry Mirielle felt two warm hands rest upon her shoulder and then her husbands breath upon her ear. "I love you Mirielle," were is whispered words.

She turned around to look up at her husband with a smile. "I love you too Severus."