Note: There is obvious canon divergence, and some things aren't mentioned/referenced for obvious changes and reasons. I hope I did your prompt justice, it was a pleasure to write!

Written for articcat621 for Marvelously Magic Fanfiction Love You To Death Fic Exchange

The sounds of rocks blasting roared against her ears. The hard thuds of their landing shook the ground.

Her heart was pounding out of her chest. Her palms were sweaty.

Screams, both shrill and rough, filled the air.

She ran. She had to help them.

But she couldn't.

"No!"

Hermione sat up quickly, her hand pressed to her chest as she tried to breath. Her eyes swept over the clock on the nightstand, and she read that it was two-thirty in the morning. A shallow breath escaped her; how could she forget what day it was going to be?

She rolled her shoulders gently, her eyes closed as she bit her lip. The air in the room hit her body with a cool, relieving breeze, giving the witch enough incentive to slip out of the bed. Hermione opened her eyes and moved as quietly as she could.

As she made her way to the bathroom, Hermione looked over her shoulder to find the still occupied space in the bed hadn't moved. That was more relieving than the air. She'd hate to have woken him up over her own silliness.

That's what she deduced her recurring dreams every year to be. It was nearly fine until that day. No matter the hour, everything set her off. The blasts, the screams, the panic, the fear. Not once was she afraid of Voldemort and what he stood for. She was afraid of what would happen because of him and what he stood for. All those lives that were taken or manipulated because of one man's deranged philosophy.

The brunette turned on the light in the bathroom, flinching from the brightness that hit her eyes suddenly.

Red, blue and green flashes shot in every direction around her. She saw one hit one of the younger fighters (no, an innocent student) on the field square in the chest. She choked back a sob because she couldn't protect him in time.

Hermione looked into the mirror, her arms shaking as her hands gripped the counter tightly. Her eyes were red, her hair all over the place. Merlin, every year she tried to figure out how her bushy hair could get even messier. Fourteen years and still no answer.

Her cheeks were splotchy, stained with tears she shed in her sleep. When her fingers weren't shaking anymore, Hermione touched her lips gingerly, feeling the tears begin to form in her eyes again.

This had to stop. It had to stop . Merlin, make it stop . No matter what she did, every May 2nd of every year since the Battle, memories were triggered and her pain resurfaced. Leaving for the states didn't do a buggering thing. No one questioned her about her choice, not even the crestfallen Ron who thought they had something together.

It took the first kiss to realize it would have to be the last. Ron deserved someone that would give him everything that he wanted in life as his friend and his wife; it wouldn't...couldn't be her.

The others assumed she would be off to find her parents, and that's what she wished she could have done. After nearly five years of living in Australia and searching, she couldn't trace them back to where she left them. Wherever they were, they were enjoying life without the knowledge of a daughter, and she was stuck with the hard consequence of protecting her parents.

She would never get comfort and reassurance from them. It was a love that would never compare to anyone or anything else, and she had to push it away for their safety.

By the time she realized she was crying louder than intended, the door was already ajar and a soft touch brushed against her arm. Hermione wiped her eyes quickly, hating the fact she didn't grab her wand before coming to the bathroom. Her instincts were failing her once again.

"Steve, I–" Hermione began to say, her voice softer than she wanted, when the mewing cut her off.

Crookshanks, the old, grumpy, yet still lively half-kneazle rested on the counter, giving Hermione a look. His tail swished back and forth against her arm as if it was his way of comforting her.

She reached over to pet him, a sad smile on her face. "For a second there, I thought you were–"

"The one that let Mr. Grumpy Crooks in?" came Steve's voice.

Hermione looked in the mirror, seeing the tall, muscled blond watching her in the doorway, his arms folded in front of his chest while leaning on the doorframe. She swallowed and licked her lips, shifting her gaze from her pet to Steve and connecting the dots. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to scold him for the name he gave Crookshanks or scold Crookshanks for waking Steve up.

"I know I'm seven decades out of touch, but I know when he wakes me up it's serious," he told her, making his way towards her. His expression on his face was colored in concern, and his eyes told her how helpless he felt in the situation.

He'd only been in the equation for a year now, so he was new to her annual 'trauma day', yet he was picking up on the little things quickly. Crookshanks seemed to like him if he'd wake the man up to come to her aid. She'd chalk it up to the fact that he liked using Steve's shield when he brought it to her apartment as a scratching post; he could never make a mark and saw that as a challenge.

Hermione looked down at the counter. When she first arrived in the states, it was just her luck that she'd almost gotten hit in the middle of a bank heist across the street from her new apartment. She'd been so frozen that she didn't realize she was saved until the shadow of the man blocked the sun from her eyes.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" he asked her.

Hermione couldn't see his face then, but being rescued by a stranger did something to her. Look at her at age eleven.

It also helped that she read about heroes like him before choosing to stay in New York. Captain America just saved her life.

"I am now," she answered before realizing it.

He chuckled lightly before setting her down and giving her a salute. "Stay safe," he said before rushing off after the robbers.

Hermione watched him run off, mentally berating herself for acting out of character. She didn't realize she was going to meet the exact same man without his suit in the grocery store.

She was trying to reach for something on the higher shelves, and using her magic in the public was not an option.

An arm stretched for the object and handed it to her. She looked up to the blond with striking blue eyes and an easy smile. If he weren't as built and kind, she'd have mistaken him for Malfoy.

"Thank you," Hermione said politely, taking the item.

He tipped his head to her. "No problem, ma'am."

It was the way he said it that made the gears turn in Hermione's head a bit. She knew all about keeping things secret, but she was also a woman known for asking questions. So she did something she didn't normally do. She asked him out to the nearest cafe.

Things turned out better than she thought, but there was a nagging, evil voice in the back of her mind that told her even this superhero couldn't save her from the demons she tried to hide.

She shook out of her thoughts when his hand was on her back, rubbing circles while he kept her gaze in the mirror.

"I won't lie like I knew what you went through in a magical war," Steve said, "but I would like to believe and tell you that I know what it's like to carry the memories of what happened with you. I lost so much…"

Hermione softened a little, turning her body so she was facing him. It was hard trying not to run away, but knowing that he had his own demons helped her know she wasn't alone. Of course, her friends in Europe had gone through things just as she did, but being able to connect to someone that she didn't know for nearly two decades of her life that had similar demons was a refreshing glass of water.

Steve didn't advance on her first off, which spoke volumes about his manners, even if they were learned decades ago, so she caressed his arms and met his eyes.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"You're welcome, Hermione," Steve replied as he wrapped his arms securely around her waist. "Anytime."

She buried her head in his chest, willing the memory flashes from her mind. He lifted her in his arms effortlessly, taking her back to the bed. After setting her down, Steve pulled the covers back over their bodies and held her.

It took the soft kiss to her temple for the dam to break. She gripped Steve's t-shirt and cried some more, hating that this day was the day that changed her life for better and for worse. She wanted the worse to end . Maybe Steve could be the one to do that.

Maybe.

Word Count: 1,551