Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, they belong to JK Rowling, and no profit is being made off this work.

Jukebox Plays; Unbeautiful, by Lesley Roy

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The light slanted across the scrubbed clean, grey flagstones of the floor. They glowed faintly, as though lit softly from within by the energy that a million people and infused them with. The stories that they could tell- of lives passed in staring down at their impassive surface. Of the births, and the deaths; the countless joys and agonized partings. It had been the silent witness of more turns in the wheel of life then most people ever had the chance to see. In places, the stones were bleached paler by scrubbing- blood, footsteps, wearing worn through, until the mark of them had become an indelible part of the stone itself.

Moonlight shone silver through the high, faintly arched and deeply set windows that lined the long wall of the Infirmary. Casting it's etherial and softly gilded radiance over every surface that it touched. Catching and reflecting off the motes of dust that danced and spiraled through it's beams, crosshatching the room into sections of light, and impenetrable shadows that were all the deeper for the contrast. The air was suffused by the forever lingering, sharp and acid smell of medical disinfectant. Faintly touched by the peppery sweet tang of a vial of Pepper Up potion that had broken earlier that afternoon. A layer of scent that would soon fade, and leave only the steady notes behind. Of soap and sickness, the warm, sticky smell of gauze and starched sheets- the things that were present in every hospital, every sick room, the world over.

Tom stood at the door, watching for a moment as the warmly orange glow from the hallway cut across the Infirmary floor in a single streak of light. It broke the silvery blue peace of the room, a colour from a palette that didn't belong. That saved it from being nothing more then the dreamy and cold darkness that it had so much potential to be; and even if it's comforting softness did cast the shadows into darker relief- well, it was a reminder that the world was still out there. That would exist, even when the door had long since been shut behind him. It was impossible to close out the world completely.

Ever graceful, deceptively casual, Tom slid one hand into the pocket of his white Healer's outer robe. Unbuttoned, it hung loosely behind him revealing the simple black button down shirt beneath it. Clean and pressed, even despite the day spent administering to the sick and the helpless- the scared first year students that were ill with grief and fear at being separated from their families for the first time. Wishing that they could run away to the safety of the familiar- not wise enough yet to see that the best way yet to come. That if they only opened their eyes to the amazing things that were right in front of them, they would see. The world would not be denied forever.

He had learned that lesson well.

Here was where it all had started. Two young people with no idea how to make it in the world- lost and cast adrift on stormy seas that they had known would eventually pull them under and drown them. In his wife, he had found the salvation he had never dreamed he was worthy to know. Tom held his hand out in front of him- the long, elegant fingers and the slender palm that had been the same since he was a child. Changed forever by the simple band that circled the fourth finger. The forever reminder that he was not alone. That he was worth the time, and the effort- the pain- of building a life with. Time had passed, years had passed, since they had first looked into one another's eyes and known that there was something to the other that the world would never see.

And the world still didn't understand. And they didn't explain. The world saw only two people who seemed to move around each other like planets, caught together by their own gravity. Their own nature binding them together in a way that left outsiders wondering if they could ever really fathom it. The quietly reserved couple, that saved their affection for behind closed doors. Moments for them, and them alone.

Over the years, Tom had come to understand some of the life Hermione had come from. Some things she would not speak of- and somethings he was too afraid, too sickened, to ask. The evil that had tainted her world had been turned back at the source. Saving him in the final moments before it would have blossomed into the devouring force that would have consumed him. That would have turned him into the waxy, ashen faced creature that he had glimpsed so briefly in her memories. That still haunted his dreams, in moments when he allowed the vestiges of what he had seen consume him with self loathing.

Some things she did not tell him. Things that cut too close to the marrow; raking violently across exposed nerves that would never really heal. And he had learned to simply hold her close and say nothing at all. They did not console one another. They did not whisper that things would be alright. Because they knew, they had seen, that sometimes they were not. The silent reminder that the world could fall down around them, and she would still be able to lean on him. And he on her.

"Tom? Are you coming?"

Came the soft, familiar voice from beside him. The ebony haired man glanced over with grey eyes that held a rare moment of perfect serenity. They had opened Pandora's box. Together they had faced the very worst of what they had done, and what they had been- and found someone that could accept them without reserve. Not someone to heal them, but someone who's emotional baggage matched theirs so perfectly that they learned to heal each other. The scars of their subconscious minds remained, locked deep inside where the world was not able to find them.

Reaching over, Tom lightly rested his hand over the small of her back. An outward gesture to the world that this woman was his. The besotted expression that lingered in his eyes left no doubt that he was forever, happily, hers. "Of course I'm coming. Why would I stay here when I could be home?" He said. Hermione tilted her head to the side curiously, as though trying to divine through sight alone, what was turning about in her husband's mind.

"Maybe one day you'll stop being such a mystery, Tom."

"Somehow, dear.. I don't think so."

Maybe the world didn't understand. Maybe it never would. But with him, Hermione had found the kind of happiness that you cannot plan. That you can spend your whole life searching for- only to realize, only when you have reached the very bottom, that it was the last place you ever thought to look. And Tom had been hidden in the darkest moments, right before dawn.

They had survived. And more then that- They had found life.

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Wow... After nearly a year and a half of absence, I have finally, finally, finally finished this. I don't know why the inspiration for it suddenly clobbered me- but Im glad it did. I wanted to send out a million years of love to everyone that has ever reviewed this story, and I hope you're happy with the conclusion.