Hermione scrubbed the dishes without really seeing them, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her mind wandered. It was a mindless task; muscle memory from a mundane, Muggle childhood. Yet she still found it calming on days like today, when her thoughts refused to slow down. But memories of home movies and warm hugs and the sound of her father’s records echoing around the kitchen had seeped through the calm and phantom pains lanced through her chest at the thought of all the years her parents spent raising her. 