Or was she still able to love, after all she'd been through? Hermione still hadn't forgotten the thrill of what it felt like the first time she'd realised she was in love with Harry, and the memory excited wondrous, girlish flutterings all through her body. She recognised those dormant emotions as if they were a stolen memory, welcomed them even, as they tentatively poked though all her layers of hurt. It was a strange sensation, to have warmth in her heart trying to chase away the resident cold.