Chapter Seventeen

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR. This is all for personal fun and enjoyment.

A/N: My thanks to the fabulous Shug for her lightning-fast beta skills and irrepressible enthusiasm. I am also absolutely indebted to Septentrion for providing details on traditional French wedding customs, as well as for correcting my French accents and making sure it's not completely obvious that I'm American.

*

New Year's Eve 2004

Hermione stood, grinning ear to ear behind Cosette as her friend exchanged vows with Henri. The wedding had been planned in a whirlwind, and Hermione was in awe of the petite force now more than ever. Cos had planned a New Year's Eve wedding in Florence, Italy in less than three months, and considering that her guest list was upwards of two hundred, it was truly a grand fete. Severus had dubbed Cosette the "miracle girl," but Hermione knew it was a fond nickname.

They were on one of Italy's magically protected beaches. The moonlight shimmered off the Mediterranean, mixing beautifully with the candlelight on the sand. The largest candles floated above the crowd, and the ambiance was sumptuous. Temporary limestone had been laid over some of the beach to allow for seating, and enchanted sheets of white and blue tulle gently bordered the area in a floating perimeter.

Cosette and Henri stood in front, barefoot in the sandy surf. Henri wore black trousers and a white button down, and Cosette was resplendent in a cream and blue lacy garment that wrapped around her like cling-film. As always, Hermione thought. An enchanted white garden trellis enclosed the bride, groom, and cardinal in a private space.

Surprisingly, Henri and Cos were being married by an Italian cardinal. Henri was Muggle-born, and Hermione always forgot that he – unlike herself – had had a religious upbringing. He was Catholic, and his one religious request had been that a priest conduct the ceremony. As in all things, Henri and Cosette had gone above and beyond the call of duty and found one of the most highly respected cardinals on the continent. Hermione wondered how they managed it, as Cosette was decidedly agnostic. It was a nice personal touch for Henri, though how a Catholic cardinal was officiating a wizard wedding...

Well, he's either a relative or about to be Obliviated, Hermione thought, idly watching the old cardinal. Probably both.

Hermione was Cosette's sole attendant; Henri's brother Raul was his. Hermione was wearing an elegant, simple dress the color of midnight.

Her eyes scanned the audience, and she could see Severus' seated silhouette through the candlelight. He was sitting next to Pierre, a situation which Pierre was likely not happy about. Hermione stifled a sigh. Pierre had continued to express concern over her relationship with Severus. Hermione had told him to shut it or he'd be an employee short.

He'd behaved well... so far.

Hermione had been surprised when Cosette and Henri had engaged in traditional Catholic vows. Everyone had been shocked, and Cosette had practically trembled with laughter. Hermione had been tempted to poke her.

She looked up at the moon. Almost midnight, she thought.

"...And do you, Cosette Bedard, take Henri DuBois to be your lawfully wedded husband for as long as you both shall live?"

Hermione could only imagine the glow on her friend's face when she heard her say, "I do."

"You may kiss the bride!" the dotty old cardinal exclaimed gleefully.

Henri reached for Cosette and pulled her into a passionate kiss as the midnight chimes started.

They pulled apart and turned to their guests. "Bonne Anné et, Bonne Santé à vous tous!" they exclaimed, and the assembly responded in kind. Henri kissed Cosette again as nearly everyone turned to or sought someone to kiss at this precious, precarious hour.

Hermione felt a hand wrap around her, and she grinned. "You moved fast."

"You look delicious," he murmured, nipping at her ear. Heat ripped through her. "Happy New Year's, Hermione," he whispered, pulling her against him to kiss her deeply, soundly. She heard Henri and Cosette cheer – at them, presumably – and she pulled away, embarrassed.

"Happy New Year's, darling. Our friends just got married, remember?" she stammered, blushing. She smiled, content that Severus kept a possessive arm wrapped around her as the cardinal announced the husband and wife, and the happy couple walked down the 'aisle' to whoops and cheers.

"Bonne Année!" the couple shouted, and Henri took Cosette's hand and Apparated away.

"Where have they gone, now?" Severus asked.

"I already told you this," Hermione said, sighing in feigned exasperation. "Henri and Cosette are having the vin d'honneur and their pictures at the park. Everyone will drink champagne and give last-minute gifts and mingle and chat and watch Henri and Cosette take their pictures, and then there will be a brief break before all the close friends and family head to the Rossi for the main buffet and reception."

"And open bar," Severus added.

"Yes, the open bar. There will still probably be a hundred people at the reception. Cosette doesn't know how to host a small party, let alone a traditional one."

"Mm," Severus murmured, nuzzling Hermione's neck as they watched the various guests "The reception isn't for an hour yet." He pressed a kiss to her throat. "Are you interested?"

She turned to him and smiled wickedly.

*

The reception began an hour later. Hermione was seated with Raul at the head table, listening to his animated raptures over the first wizarding wedding he'd ever witnessed. She was entirely amused and was desperately trying to right her knickers without drawing suspicion. Why the hell had she worn knickers, anyway? The dress was bloody tight!

The conversation halted when Henri and Cosette sped into the room which, like the ceremony, was entirely candlelit. Various shades of blue and white and black were everywhere, candles were floating, and the liquor was already flowing freely. Cosette's Aunt Amelie's café was catering the buffet, for which Hermione was thrilled.

Hermione reached for her limoncello to toast the couple as they approached the head table.

*

After Hermione, Raul, and the newlyweds' parents had offered toasts to health and happiness, Cosette and Henri went to the floor to dance their first dance. Hermione snuck away from the head table to stand with Severus, who was seated with some of his and Henri's mutual friends from the conference circuit. She knelt down next to his chair as he reintroduced her to them, and they all smiled and greeted each other. Severus excused himself and went to stand with Hermione at the bar.

"This is a beautiful song," she said after he had ordered their drinks.

"It's Cosette's mother," he said. "This is her most popular love song, I believe."

"Oh, my goodness." Hermione put her hand over her heart as she noticed how Cosette clutched Henri, her face buried in the crook of his neck as they swayed to the slow, gritty melody.

"It's a touching tribute. Amelie looks a little worse for the wear." Severus nodded towards the café owner, who was wiping her tears away. He put his arm around Hermione. "How are you holding up?"

Hermione looked up at him with a rueful smile. "I didn't even know Yvette and I'm all torn up."

Severus squeezed her shoulder, a grin spread wide across his face. "You'll be all right."

"If you say so."

"Your emotions are remarkably resilient."

"That's quite optimistic of you, darling."

"Note who I am applying the optimism to."

"Drink your whiskey, Severus."

He arched an eyebrow and did so, smacking his lips in satisfaction. "Your toast was well done," he said, changing the subject.

"Thank you." She beamed and sipped her wine. "I have a poem that I think I'll be reading soon. Henri and Cosette are opening up the microphone for the entire crowd to share memories and whatnot. An 'open mic,' as it were."

"Trusting of them," Severus said dryly, and Hermione punched his arm playfully. "Oh, come now," he said, setting his drink down. "As if you would ever open up the microphone for anyone to share any memory of you they ever had. It's particularly trusting seeing as how they're loosening everyone's tongues and morals with the free bar."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but the song ended at that moment, and everyone clapped as Henri dipped Cosette and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

Hermione sighed. "That was very sweet."

"Mm." Severus nodded noncommittally. "Ah, a new song. Dance with me?"

Hermione grinned. "I love that you always ask me to dance."

"We cut quite a rug, ma chère."

Her heart swelled as he led her to the floor – it was the first time he had ever used that endearment.

*

A half hour later, Hermione had managed her way to the microphone.

"Bonjour," she said. "I know you are all probably sick to death of me by now –" Laughter and what Hermione took to be encouraging phrases in many languages were shouted. She chuckled and continued, "But I do have one more thing to share – a poem. Don't worry, Henri. It's short." She smiled playfully at the groom, who dramatically gestured for her to continue. "Cosette and I were reading through books of love poetry at a bookshop the other day just for fun, you know, but this poem really stuck out, and now that Henri and Cosette are married –" She put a hand over her heart – "I can read it. It's entitled 'To my Dear and Loving Husband,' by Anne Bradstreet."

She cleared her throat.

"'If ever two were one, then surely we.

If ever man were lov'd by wife, than thee.

If ever wife was happy in a man,

Compare with me, ye women, if you can.

I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold

Or all the riches that the East doth hold.

My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,

Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.

Thy love is such I can no way repay,

The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.

Then when we live, in love let's so persever

That when we live no more, we may live ever.'"

She smiled at her friends and ignored the tears swelling – again – in her eyes as Cosette, who had been standing, bent to passionately kiss her new husband at the poem's end. The crowd cheered the cheers of the intoxicated sort.

Hermione smiled gracefully and walked straight back to Severus, who was – once again – positioned at the bar.

He nodded. "Again, well done."

"Two compliments in one night?" Hermione feigned shock. "Whatever am I to do?"

"Oh, shut it, woman. You get nervous about public speaking, which is why I'm here to assure you."

Hermione sipped the drink he handed her. "Who doesn't get nervous about public speaking?"

He paused. "After the sorts of audiences I've played to, trust me, I could speak for the Queen herself and not have a single nerve."

Hermione threw back her drink, choosing to ignore the latent message –

Vol –

She shut the name off in her head. She did not want to hear it, think it, speak it –

She was immensely grateful when Severus pinched her derriere playfully, promptly sending her into a fit of giggles.

*

The rest of the reception went swimmingly, with Hermione and Severus dancing until they were too inebriated to feign any grace at all. They Apparated to their hotel after Henri and Cosette's departure and proceeded to spend the rest of the week in Florence.

*

March 2004

Hermione had just returned to her flat from work when a letter shot out of her Floo. She set her tote down, walked to the fireplace, and picked up the letter. URGENT was scrawled across the front in Harry's jagged handwriting.

The baby! Ginny was due any day now.

She tore the letter open –

4 March 2008

Ginny's delivered a healthy baby boy at 3:56 p.m. He was seven pounds, ten ounces and has my hair and her eyes. It was a hard labor, but Gin is doing okay.

We named him James Sirius Potter.

Come as soon as you can, day or night! Write, and I'll meet you at our flat to take you to St. Mungo's. Ginny is in a private suite.

Love you,

Harry

Hermione squealed and started jumping up and down. She quickly ran through her to-do list and decided that everything could wait. She needed to see Severus, of course – it was Friday night, and he'd be expecting her.

She already had a stack of baby gifts – a fleece Gryffindor-red baby blanket, an ivory rattle she'd bought in Africa, and several books – two fairy tale books (the Muggle one for Harry, the wizard one for Ginny) as well as one of her favorites, Goodnight, Moon.

She stepped into the fire to go to Capois.

*

She stepped out and was immediately swept up in his arms. He bent and kissed her, his hands sliding along her waistband, and it was with great reluctance and a gentle push that she separated him from her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, brushing a curl from her face.

"No. I can't stay tonight – I'll be here tomorrow."

"You're here right now," he pointed out.

"I came to tell you that I'm going to London. Ginny had the baby this afternoon," she rushed to explain, desperate to counter his rapidly darkening demeanor. "And I have gifts –"

"Can you not see them later?" he asked.

"I want to be with them tonight. I imagine everyone has already seen him."

"A baby boy?" he asked. She nodded.

"Please, Severus."

"Won't the exhausted new parents need their sleep?" he asked, leaning into her, nuzzling her neck.

"Yes, but it's the principle of the thing," she said, barely able to speak through the shockwaves that were shooting straight to her core, making her practically quake in her shoes. Instant desire.

The bastard.

"Severus –" she started. "I can't."

He released her and landed a hard hand on the mantle.

"You and your goddamn principles," he muttered.

She reached for him, but he shrugged her off.

Her expression hardened. "Fine. I'll be here later tonight or maybe tomorrow."

She turned on her heel and went back through the Floo, furious with Severus and eager to see Harry and Ginny's new son.

*

She visited with Ginny and Harry, dropped her gifts off at their flat, held the new baby, and was back in France within two hours.

She didn't see Severus that weekend.

*

A few days later, her stomach was still twisted in knots. It felt like there was a Nargle trapped in her chest desperately trying to escape.

She crawled out of bed, still in her pajamas, and stepped into her fireplace to Floo to Capois. She wanted to sleep in their bed, clutch his pillow, smell him.

She was a coward, and she knew it.

She stepped out of the dusty Capois fire a moment later and was startled to find Severus sitting right in front of her in a wing-backed chair, glass of brandy in one hand, a book in the other.

He arched an eyebrow before returning his attention to the book. The John Donne sonnets, she noted.

He's in a morose mood.

"Severus?" she asked.

He didn't look at her.

She took the seat across from him.

He sat, austere, like stone.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen you."

He slammed a hand against his armrest, and she jumped in surprise.

"You haven't seen me in days. This is your problem, not mine. Do not make an issue of it. Why are you so determined to discuss this?" he growled.

"Because it troubles you."

"You trouble me. You trouble every fucking aspect of my life."

"Is that why I'm in your life, then? For the fucking?"

He glared at her. "That's not what I said."

"Then tell me."

He sneered. "You've no respect for my privacy. I respect your work; you pester me about mine. I just want peace and quiet when I am here. It's why I come here." He paused. "And I do not want to have your friends infiltrating every parameter of my existence."

"They don't – they won't!" Hermione insisted, taken aback. "I just went to the hospital–"

"And the questions you were assaulted with – where you've been, what you've been doing – how did you answer them? Any answers you give will eventually lead them here."

"Sweet fucking Merlin!" Hermione exclaimed. "No one asked me questions! I was alone with Harry and Ginny the whole time, and they know me well enough to not ask any questions about you! Merlin, Severus, did you honestly think I went to see the baby in order to tell them every fucking detail of my life here? I didn't say anything! Why would I? They didn't ask questions! Why the fuck would they?"

She was shocked at how quickly the tension left his body. His relaxation was palpable.

"Did you think I wasn't seeing you because I came back repulsed by the idea of you?" she asked quietly. He was silent. "The trip was all planned out, Severus. Have you ever known me to not consider all the particulars?"

He sipped his brandy.

"Damn it, Severus, you can't do this to me!" she said, tears forming in her eyes. "You can't be upset and not tell me why and just assume!"

"I've made a life out of drawing correct assumptions," he said slowly, his eyes black.

She gestured helplessly. "What more can I do?" she asked. She put her head in her hands. "I've given up a life..."

"You didn't give it up for me, and I have made no claims to keep you here."

Her breath hitched. Tears spilled. That stung far more than it should.

"I know," she said.

He sighed. "I have to work tomorrow as well. I need rest. So do you." He rose, and she heard him stand next to her, felt his hand on her hand. "You'll get back alright?"

She nodded dumbly. She felt him kiss her head before walking into the bedroom.

She stepped into the Floo and disappeared. She arrived at her flat and was barely able to stumble to the couch.

When she woke the next morning, the throw pillow was soaked with tears.

*

Present

"We never really got our boundaries sorted out," Hermione said, sipping her wine.

Rose sat, slightly aghast. "But for him to push you around and just assume and not compromise..."

"It's not his way."

"That's not a relationship."

"Note that I am sitting in front of you having been married to your father for over twenty years."

Rose was silent. "It's easy to forget that you were... separated."

Hermione laughed. "You're sitting here in front of me, darling." She took her daughter's hand. "That's proof enough."

"He was just so... obstinate," Rose exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. She put her elbows on the table. "What kept you there, Mum?" she asked, though she was certain that she knew the answer.

"I loved him," her mum responded. "And when he told me that he had not brought me to France – that was the first time he said that; he told me many times – oh, how I longed to tell him, but I just couldn't bear to put that information in his hands..." She halted abruptly, regaining her composure. "And we just went very well together." A smile touched her lips. "Do you remember the nursery rhyme that I used to tell you all the time? 'There was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead...'"

"'And when she was good, she was very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid,'" Rose finished, grinning.

"That's the short summary," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "It wasn't horrid, but it was damned difficult, and that year..." She sighed. "That year was when I started to crack. He didn't tell me he loved me, for one thing. Not that I rationally expected him to, but a woman in love does long to hear such feelings requited. Also, our entire relationship lacked a definition. 'Companion' is the word Severus took to using," Hermione said wryly, her fingers drumming against her glass. "Companion is all well and good and settled, but we weren't any of those things. I was madly in love with him, and I didn't care for his using the tone he adopted when speaking of his potions."

Rose snorted.

*

Mid Year, Capois

"You're leaving again," she said flatly.

Severus sighed and stared back at her. He crossed his arms over his chest.

They were at an impasse. Again.

He was in that three piece suit. That was the reason why she was so upset. Or perhaps it was just because he was leaving. Probably both. That damn suit signified something important that she wasn't meant to know about. That she couldn't know. And he looked good, and she couldn't even enjoy that. He made an effort for this but not for her.

Was she reading too much into this?

Yes, nagged the little voice in her head. She couldn't stand watching him leave and not knowing when he'd be back. This suit had last made him disappear for eight weeks.

A trip from which he'd only returned last week.

Eight long, miserable, depressing weeks.

"You need to let this go," he said, staring at her unflinchingly.

She looked at the ceiling and stared at the attic latch.

"You were gone for two months last time," she said, knowing she sounded broken. "What if you're gone for that long again?"

His eyes flared. He crossed the floor in three long strides and reached for her, crushing his mouth to hers. Her stomach swooped as he backed her against the counter, hands roaming.

"Severus," she gasped against his mouth as he moved his lips to her neck. "I – oh."

His hands snuck under her shirt and snaked up her back. She felt her bra unclasp, and her top and bra were off before she knew it.

She lost quite a few things after that – her jeans, her knickers, her mind. The usual.

*

"That doesn't make goodbye any easier, you know," she told him a half hour later.

He rested a casual hand on the door, which was askance, offering them a beautiful view of the countryside in autumn. "I know," he murmured, reaching out to run a finger down her face. "It tends to have an adverse effect."

"You miss me more?" she grinned.

He smirked. "Occasionally." The clock chimed in the kitchen.

"I need to go," he said and bent down to give her a chaste kiss on the lips.

She embraced him. "I'll miss you. I love you."

He removed her arms from his neck and started down the front steps, not meeting her eyes.

"Say something," she said, leaning against the door, slightly annoyed. "Don't ignore me."

"I cannot return the sentiment," he said sharply, turning around to look at her. "Don't expect me to say it."

It felt as if she'd been doused with cold water.

She leapt down the steps and went to stand right in front of him, nose to nose, or rather her nose to his sternum.

"I've never said it and I refuse to be guilted," he said matter-of-factly. "I care for you, and the fucking is good."

She slapped him hard.

He touched his lips gingerly, his expression dark. "I see the sarcasm is lost on you. Now, if you'll excuse me." He turned.

Guilt swept over her.

"I'm –"

She saw him hold up a hand, but he didn't turn around.

She staggered back and sat on the steps of the cottage, watching him walk away into the sunset.

She put her head in her hands and cried.

*

9 November 2004

She couldn't recall ever feeling worse in her life. Halloween had come and gone. It was November. It had been over a month since he'd left. He hadn't returned. At least, he hadn't told her if he'd returned.

She was beginning to think he'd left her.

No. She knew he hadn't. If he'd decided to end things, she would have found herself Banished from the cottage and unable to enter.

She'd banished herself from the cottage, though. After her cry, she'd packed her things and taken them back to her flat.

She had, however, been blocked from his flat. It was a damn shame. She'd left some of her favorite books there.

And he'd blocked her...

That rankled.

No – it didn't just rankle. It felt like she'd been dragged across a bed of hot coals.

She'd been sad for a long time.

Depressed might be the right word.

Pierre, who had experienced an unfortunate bout of fatherly concern, had scheduled counseling sessions with the company psychiatrist and had assured Hermione that he was attempting to find Severus.

He'd been unable to locate him, and that news had been damn unbearable to hear. Hermione had screamed and cried in Pierre's office while he attempted to console her.

Pierre's inability to locate someone did not bode well for a situation.

It had ached. Physically ached.

If she was willing to be honest with herself, she'd admit that it still did.

She poured herself a cup of coffee. She had to be to work soon. That's one thing she'd learned. Life goes on. The person you love more than almost anyone leaves, but life goes on.

Pierre had banned her from the office for a while, which had been difficult. Hermione did not cope well without work – she had tried to tell him this, but he hadn't listened. She needed to do things to stay sane... she would go stir crazy if left alone in her apartment with books and her frayed nerves for company.

October had been hell. On top of her depression and Pierre's mothering, Cosette and Henri had been in South America, away from the situation for four weeks. And she hadn't had the heart to write Ginny, a frantic new mother.

Oh, how her circle had shrank. But even if she was in Britain, who would she go to? She had never needed many confidantes. She'd go to Harry and Ginny... but she couldn't go to them now. When she had interned at St. Mungo's there had been Margot Caron – Pierre's niece – for the occasional vent or sob session. There had been Ron. And Luna.

Luna would have understood.

No – it wasn't that Luna would have understood, though she probably would in her own special way... it was that Luna wouldn't question. She would accept: would be absolutely, unconditionally accepting.

Hermione leaned against the counter, drained her coffee cup, and picked up her briefcase.

She hadn't written Luna, in spite of how much she may have wanted to.

And she was feeling better now. She really was. And Cosette was encouraging her to be angry at him for how he'd treated her.

She was almost too angry. Honest.

She drew in a deep breath and left for work.

*