Intuition

She had that wretched feeling again that something was wrong, but wasn't everything going wrong lately? She was exhausted from the extra hours she had to put in at work and exhausted from trying to give her children baths when they resisted and clearly would do anything to avoid being clean. She was tired of her lifestyle and now this morning when she woke up, she had that eerie feeling that something was just not right.

She slid her legs off the bed and her feet landed on the cold hardwood floor, fortunate that she was wearing thick socks. As she stood up and reached for her robe, she almost stepped on a game of jacks, a Muggle game that her father had found and bought for his grandchildren. She luckily avoided that painful incident when she found herself up against a hard chest. Surprised, she stepped back onto the jacks and held back a screech as she fell back on her bed, holding her foot.

"What the f--?" she muttered.

She looked up and saw her husband running across the room, attempting to dress himself properly.

"Harry?" she said, confused. "What are you still doing here? You're late for work."

"Am I really?" he snapped back. "I didn't notice the time."

She glared at his back as he put on his best green jumper. She saw him lean forward to tie his trainers, take one last look at himself in the mirror and then he was out the door. Without even saying 'Good-bye' or 'I love you'. Taking his warm pillow, she threw it across their bedroom, through the door.

"Excellent shot," the mirror replied, "though you could use a bit more sleep."

The mirror noticed her. If only the one person she cared about noticed her too, now and then.

~*~

By the time she ushered her children out of bed and to their Muggle primary school, she realized she was late for her meeting at the bank. Finally at Gringotts, she argued with her boss, a difficult goblin, to cut down her working hours. After the exhausting meeting, she went shopping at Diagon Alley for a birthday present for her brother and a book from Flourish and Botts. She considered passing by the Meadows Cemetery, but the morning had been long and she ached to return home, even empty as it was. As she walked through the Leaky Cauldron to use their fireplace, she noticed a familiar raven-haired man sitting at a table. She couldn't see whom he was with as a server spoke with them to get their order.

Even though his back was towards her, she knew it was Harry. She could always spot him from across the Great Hall or even across the Quidditch Pitch. She remembered when she was younger how shy she was but several years later, she grew less shy and wanted to dance with him at the Yule Ball and kiss him.

But today, she felt...wrong. Something wasn't quite right and she hesitated to move either way, neither towards the fireplace nor towards her husband. Wasn't he supposed to be at work? He never ate out for lunch.

Suddenly, everything became clear. The server had moved aside, leaving them with mugs of butterbeer, and she became visible. She was sitting across from her husband, having lunch with him. Then she leaned forward and placed her delicate hand over his, smiling up at him.

Tears formed in her eyes, her breath caught in her throat, but she would not make a scene in such a public place. She turned towards the fireplace, held tightly onto her bag of purchases, and threw a handful of floo powder, yelling, "Potter Cottage!" before she was thrust through the winding and dizzying form of wizarding transportation.

~*~

So this was her life, she thought. She'd forever be the dutiful wife while he spent his time at work and with extracurricular activities. She wanted to cry over her predicament, but didn't she know this was coming? Female intuition. She knew that something eerily significant would reveal itself today; a Seer didn't have to make that prediction.

She continued the rest of her day in a daze. She bought groceries and cleaned the bathroom and the children's room. In the midst of her daily routine, she thought of how her life had changed over the past several years. She had initially lived and survived for her children, but now, that wasn't enough. She used to have love, but now it was gone.

After she picked her children up from school, she dropped them off at her brother's house, asking him and his wife to take care of her children and for them to spend the night there. She gave the excuse that she had an important appointment that morning and couldn't take them to school. When she returned home, she didn't cook dinner but started folding the laundry instead.

It was after eight o'clock when he walked through the door. He went to sit on the couch in the living room and removed his shoes. He leaned back into the cushions and she saw him take a deep breath. Of relief or exhaustion, she didn't know. She didn't know him anymore.

"Harry."

She startled him. He looked up, surprised to see her there. "Hey." He didn't make any further moves.

She stood in front of him, her hands folded in front of her, her face expressionless. After years of practice, she taught herself how to remain emotionless. How not to cry at every little tragedy.

"How was your day?" she asked calmly. She was surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

Taking his time, he finally replied, "Tiring," and shrugged.

She felt her eyes grow mad but resisted from showing her temper. "I'm sure you're tired. It's been a long day."

"Yeah," was his simple response.

"It sure gets tiring to shag a woman who's not your wife."

They both froze, shocked. Even she did not realize what she said until after the words escaped her mouth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied.

She looked at him and said, "I do."

He leaned forward on his legs, his head resting in his palms. She realized he never expected her to find out.

"So? How was it?" What a morbid question, she thought to herself.

"Nothing happened."

In a snap, her face became full of emotion. "Nothing happened? I saw you with her, Harry. I saw her smile at you and hold your hand."

"Nothing happened," he repeated, gritting through his teeth. He looked up at her and after an uncomfortable silence, he added, "She's just visiting."

"Visiting, huh. Can't handle the great Harry Potter all at once?"

He glared up at her. "Don't you dare call me that."

"Or maybe she didn't think you were good in bed. Maybe she thought the whole situation was too... quick for her?" she remarked bitterly. She saw him holding back his temper. She didn't care anymore. She wanted him mad and hurting as much as she was. "Or maybe in the past several years, she's shagged so many other men that you're just no-"

He had pinned her up against the wall, towering over her in anger. She had never been more scared in her life.

"Never talk about her like that again. Never."

She gulped as he took a step back, staring at his bright red scar on his forehead. He turned around the walked towards the staircase, leaving her out of breath in the living room. But she had to know.

"You still love her." It was a statement, not a question.

He paused, staring at the steps in front of him. He looked back into the living room and stared at her shoes. She realized he couldn't bring himself to look at her face any longer. It was over.

"I never stopped." And he walked up the steps.

Seconds later, she collapsed on the floor, allowing herself to cry. Tears and sobs echoed in the now empty room, in her empty house.

She never could compete with Ginny Weasley.