They weren't going to be able to keep living in the fantasy that all was right within their small sphere for much longer. The dream would splinter, the walls crumble. One could not exist entirely in their dreams without suffering the crushing fate of reality. As much as she was loathe to do so, Hermione knew that she needed to make a plan for her next move. Augustus would need to return to France; she would need to return to the unknown. Each second that she remained in the house of her former love, she needed to make the most of it, wrench from it whatever joy and pleasure she could. There would be no returning. The moment she walked out his front door again, she wouldn't ever be back.