He shook his head to drive the memory away. It wasn’t necessary to re-live everything. Instead, he caressed Hermione’s cheeks lightly with his thumb and allowed himself to be happy. It was his dirty little secret. He only did it in the dark. But the truth was that the way she clung to him in that moment, or the way she needed him every day, like she needed air... it made him happy. Ecstatic even, sometimes. There were moments, of course, when he remembered the unpleasant events from their recent past and felt like hating her again. But they passed quickly. She had chosen him. She was tied to him. She belonged to him so completely that he wondered whether any person had ever belonged to another to such an extent in the history of wizardkind. And it was dizzying. Like being drunk on power. 