She studied her husband every day since waking up. He didn’t touch her without permission. He never even asked, as though he was too frightened to get rejected. Even now, as they lay in bed together, eyes wide and staring at each other, he didn’t reach out. That didn’t mean that Hermione was oblivious to the way his fingers twitched, itching to reach out. She found herself curious what the chosen form of touch would be.