"I never tried going back to Greece," Hermione admitted. "I couldn't really afford to do it for a long time and then once I could..." She shrugged a little sadly. "By then I'd read so much about our homeland and seen photos of the ruins that were left of Mycenae and Argos. I thought it would just make me sad to see places that had once been palaces now just... broken stone for tourists to photograph."
She watched Orestes fingers as she ran her thumb across them slowly, taking in the familiar feeling of his skin, trying to just slowly enjoy it and not move things along too fast. "I got here in 1939. Things were difficult for a really long time and... confusing. But I'm sure you remember that feeling too. This whole world was fast and different and completely terrifying." She looked and and smiled at her husband. "But it got better with time. I missed you though. For that first decade I barely did anything but look for you. After that... I gave up hope, a little."