Author's Notes:
This is the sequel to "Her Wedding, His Funeral" that I've written for the Dramione Remix 2016. I do recommend reading this first, but I'm sure the sequel works as well on its own. I've had it lay dormant on my laptop for about six months because I'm a sucker for Dramione with HEA...

Many, many thanks to amyeco as well as affectiionwrites for beta reading it, making sure it's as good as it can be! Your help is much appreciated... :-*

Enjoy, and please let me know if you liked it! :-)

Free. She was free. Was that what freedom felt like? Hermione read through the documents in her hands for the umpteenth time ever since she had received them only two days ago from a very important looking owl—the papers now looked rather crumpled and torn in places from her constant re-reading to make sure it hadn't just been a dream. When she had received them, she had felt nothing but relief and an immediate tug in her heart. She had been relieved that the nightmare of their rather public divorce was over, thankfully with most of the Weasley family continuing to consider her family. However, she had also felt the urge to just leave everything behind—her job, her family, her friends, everything—and take a break. Anywhere was better than England right now. All she could think of was only one place. It was all she could think of, feeling drawn to when she decided to take a trip. Him. Gods, she had begged Luna to tell her where he was, almost on her knees!

She sighed. Yes, Luna had been protective of him; only when she showed her the divorce papers she had received and admitted her mistake, only then did Luna tell her. Even just reluctantly so, imploring her to be very careful. That's why she was now sitting in the TGV from Paris to Toulon on the French Mediterranean coast, having booked the trip as soon as the travel agency opened the next morning.

Hermione looked outside, watching the landscape pass; they had left Paris about an hour ago, and it was still raining, though not as strong as before. Yes, France was a beautiful country if someone got the chance to travel it by train, despite its rather abysmal public transport system. But she still loved travelling this way—always had—because it gave her the time to think and let her mind drift a bit. And she desperately needed some time to think after everything. Wizards never really considered that aspect when they travelled from one spot or another, it was always so instant—disappearing in one spot, and then reappearing a moment later in another, regardless of the distance between those spots. But you had no time to prepare your mind for arrival, no time to sort your thoughts. A few raindrops dashed against the window, the grey sky with its heavy rain clouds somewhat fitted her mood. Hermione sighed and pulled her bottle of water from her bag with one of the sandwiches she had bought earlier in Paris during her wait at the station. Her French was mediocre at best, but she had still been able to buy something. She smiled shortly at the memory of the seller laughing at her attempt to speak French; she had been kind enough to speak slowly, and then point to the display for the numbers. It was a bit of a humiliating moment even—the brightest witch of her age who didn't know how to speak French. However, she still didn't feel hungry, and only drank some water.

"Ah, mademoiselle, toujours là..." The controller was passing through her carriage again, making his first round through the train since they had left Paris.

Hermione just smiled politely at him, playing with her water bottle absent-mindedly and watched him continue his walk through the rows. He smiled at every passenger he passed, asking how they were finding their trip. He paid particular attention to the family on the other side of the carriage, joking with the excited children. He seemed friendly, only a few years older than herself she guessed; the look was rounded up with dark blond hair and a few wrinkles around his eyes that showed whenever he smiled. She could only hope that she would develop laughing wrinkles around her eyes one day, even if life wasn't giving her a lot to laugh about at the moment.

"Mademoiselle," The controlled returned from his round and sat down in the compartment opposite hers. He studied her a bit more closely than he had when passing earlier. "Vous avez l'air triste, mademoiselle, vous êtes bien?"

Hermione smiled at him politely. She wasn't in the mood for conversation right now, but from what she understood, he had asked her if she was okay. "I-I'm really sorry, but I speak only very little French..."

"Ah, une Anglaise," he replied, his voice was warm.

That she definitely understood and nodded accordingly. "I'm sorry."

"No problem," he replied with a surprisingly light French accent. "I just wanted to say that you look—how do you say in English, triste?"

"Sad, maybe?" Hermione suggested, putting her water bottle and the divorce papers away; he didn't need to see them.

"Ouais, that's it. Sad. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Thanks, you're really kind for asking," she replied, smiling apologetically. "I'd just rather be alone right now; I have a lot to think about."

He nodded in understanding even his smile shortly changed to a more sympathetic one. "You left someone then."

"Yes." She heaved another sigh and returned to look out of the window. Yes, she had left someone who had proven to be the wrong choice in the end. It had only taken her maybe two years of marital happiness, four years of putting an effort into her marriage to make things work and another seemingly endless year to have her divorce finally granted. Looking back now, it hurt again to realise that all her efforts to make it work with Ron had been useless—their basic problem had been that their ambitions in life had been so different. She was career-driven and knew she could get far with hard work, while Ron had been the homelier type who was content with his current position as an Auror, which he had undertaken after Lee Jordan had taken over his position at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Oh, he was good at his job, especially when teamed up with Harry. He just wasn't as driven as she was to make something out of his life after that blasted war. He was content with his on-going celebrity as a member of the Golden Trio —something she had come to hate over time—with his job and with her as his wife. But that was the problem in the end. He was content and selfish; he had what he wanted from life at that point, only to forget her and her needs or dreams. Hermione suppressed a growl that had threatened to get out. Gods, yes! He had started to take everything for granted- from the unconditional support of his job down to the housework, despite her own career and other commitments. Bloody lazy arse! Even talking to Molly about this had only helped in the short run, but at least the Weasley matron had always been on her side, even during the divorce. She had been grateful for Molly's support during that year. Hermione took a gulp from the bottle as she felt her throat starting to choke up.

Molly had more than enough love for everyone the way they were and she had surprisingly been the only one she had confided in after a pregnancy scare when her period had been late once. Everyone else already had children at that point and she loved being their aunt (they were absolutely adorable), but she just didn't feel ready to have children herself, not if it meant that she had to give up her career. No, she didn't want to do that, just so that Ron could play up as the one bringing the money home. So, that was why Hermione went to see a Healer to have herself checked and put on the Contraception Potion to avoid another scare. Molly had been the only who knew and never seemed to have a problem with it—the matron had told her that she understood that she was meant for bigger things in society. It was Ron who had freaked out at her when he found out about the Contraception Potion. It had turned into their biggest argument with almost half the family involved, as Ron had long since expected to have children when he had found the pot of the half used potion. He just didn't get her point—that she simply wasn't ready, that she had career goals to achieve before she could even think of starting a family. Not even Ginny managed to talk some sense into him. That was when the whole thing started to fall apart. That had been the day he had moved out of their shared bedroom.

Hermione quietly wiped a single tear from her cheek, thinking about all those moments which made her feel angry and sad at the same time, she could probably never just think about it without getting emotional. No, she knew she couldn't. Then there was that awful day when Harry had angrily told her what he had walked into at work—Ron kissing his secretary more passionately than he should have. She knew that Harry had kept the more painful details from her, but had still told her about the clothing in disarray. That same day, she had thrown him out of their house in one huge public scene, letting him know all the frustration she had pent up over the years. In addition, she had let Molly know about what her son had dared to do, knowing full well that the Weasley matron didn't accept such disrespectful behaviour from any of her children. Hermione smirked at the idea of Molly having more than just a stern talk with her son for failing his wife. She had filed for divorce the very next day, taking the whole day off to have enough time for the paperwork; and now she was relieved to be able to leave that mess behind.

"Martin?" The device on the controller's belt started cracking, pulling Hermione from her thoughts. "Il y a une problème avec la machine..."

"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" the controller asked in his professional voice, and then listened intently as the driver told him what was going on. "Merde," he muttered and got up to make an announcement on the communication phone just behind their compartment.

Hermione listened and was then surprised to hear the controller make the announcement in his nice English accent, it made her smile shortly; apparently, the train driver had to pull up at the next village to have a look at the engines, but it didn't seem to be a big problem. She stretched her legs and then rubbed her face. Why the hell had it come to this? Had she made the wrong choice? She heaved a sigh, and put her head in her hands, looking outside again. Yes, she had. She shouldn't have played it safe and made the move on Draco all along. Draco.

"Voilà, mademoiselle. Un café. You look like you could use one." The controller was back and brought her a cup of coffee from the station. He sat down in his previous spot, flashing his warm smile at her.

"Merci." Hermione inhaled the scent; it smelled like a coffee should, freshly brewed in a proper coffee machine. She took a very cautious first sip, afraid to burn her tongue. Yes, it didn't just smell decent, it even tasted good.

"Ben, you do speak a little French, mademoiselle," he remarked with an amused tone and raised his cup to a silent toast.

She smiled faintly. "That's about it, I'm afraid." Holding the cup in both hands, she took another sip, and let it down her throat slowly. "But how is it you speak English so well? I've met a few other French and they all had a rather thick accent." She was somewhat interested to know, or at least it would take her mind off her cycle of thoughts for a moment.

"Ben," he started, smiling sheepishly at her, just when the train was about to continue its journey south. "I once had a partner who came from England; I just learned it from him." He shrugged and took another sip from his coffee. "And you're leaving someone behind?"

She nodded, hiding her hurt look behind her cup. "I got divorced. It was painful, and I just need a break."

"Ouais, I understand that. Hurts."

"Yes," she whispered.

"It'll get better again," he replied, offering her some solace.

"I hope so." With another sigh, Hermione returned to her previous position of staring out of the window. The coffee did indeed help to lift her spirits a bit, and she remembered why she was actually sitting on this train, on her way to Toulon. It wasn't about leaving somewhere so much as arriving somewhere, just as it wasn't about her running from someone, but rather, to someone. That revelation slowly broadened her lips into a smile. Draco. Gods, how she had missed him all these years! How had he been since he had left? What was he doing now? Would he even want to speak to her, should she find him in Toulon? Or was he still too hurt? She hadn't let him know that she would be coming, out of fear that he might straight-out refuse to see her. Yet, she still felt the compelling urge to see him. Right now, he was the only good thing left in the mess that was her life. She missed him, almost everything about him actually. She had valued their hard-won friendship so much that it had broken her heart when he left. Ever since, she had missed simply talking to him, missed their intelligent banter, even missed his constant remarks about her hair.

With a smile, she remembered how they were put together in an office in their beginnings at the Ministry. Gods, they had pissed each other off in those days, riled each other up until they sometimes would end up in a heated argument with insults thrown around on both sides. Hermione chuckled, as neither of them had held back in those days. When all insults had been uttered, all hexes cast and all the frustration and anger about their opposite experience in the war let out, they were finally able to let go of the past and become colleagues and then friends through their work. Oh yes, those were some days.

Her friends took a bit longer to adjust to their friendship, but he was eventually fully accepted by everyone. Thinking about those days again, she realised that Draco had always cared about her, that his tone with her had always been playful, but honest; he had definitely been more disparaging with her friends. When she was granted the promotion of Head of the reformed Muggle Relations Office, she had been so proud to be in a position where she would finally be able to DO something. She had requested that Draco was transferred with her, knowing he would be bored in his current position without her to entertain him.

That evening, they went out for a drink to celebrate her new position and she told him what she planned to do, what her ideas were. Great evening, and—in retrospect—they were both flirting with each other, with all those teasing looks and small touches that came with it. He had even made sure that her rather tipsy self made it home safely that evening, which led to them almost kissing on the steps to her flat. She had lost her balance on those steps after Apparating and he had stopped her from falling by pulling her towards him until she was just inches away. Hermione shivered when she remembered his eyes so close to hers; they had turned darker, searching hers intently in that short moment. Now, years later, she knew she should have kissed him that evening. If only she had kissed him! But her tipsy self back then had been confused, unsure of what to do, with what felt like a million questions racing through her mind in that moment.

Hermione finished her coffee and threw the empty cup into the small bin beneath the table, noting the quiet sounds of whatever game the controller opposite was now occupying himself with. At least the weather became better, the sky was still cloudy, but blue spots were visible here and there. She pushed a strand out of her face and continued staring out of the window, watching the hilly landscape roll by. Yes, France definitely was a wonderful country in which to make a train trip—one day she should make a trip with the regional trains to see more, to visit all those villages she was passing through now. Or maybe she should finally learn to drive a car and make a road trip through France. She smiled at that idea. Yes, why not?

The walkie-talkie crackled again, and the voice of the train driver was heard again. "Encore une fois?" the controller asked, sounding slightly annoyed. He exchanged a few words with the train driver that Hermione didn't understand, but from the sound of his voice, he wasn't happy about the topic of their discussion. Seconds later, and swearing lowly, he got up to make another announcement.

Hermione smiled once more when she heard the announcement repeated in English, she was sure that she was the only one on this train who wasn't a French native, but she found it a lovely gesture. They had to make another unplanned stop; apparently, the train driver wanted to check the engine—or whatever was faulty—once more and they now pulled up at the next possible station for that.

Thankfully, the unplanned stop didn't take too long, and the controller soon came back to his spot, with another couple of cups of freshly brewed coffee, looking as if he had just had some stress getting the train moving again as well as keeping in contact with the main control station.

"What happened? You said something about technical problems?" she asked, blowing over her coffee; this one smelled just as good as the first one.

The controller nodded, and let out a deep sigh. "The driver told me that some light was blinking again, and he needed to check the engine. C'est la merde, because we're now quite behind schedule. But what do you expect? That's French public transport for you!" He raised his cup to a silent toast. "You look a bit better. I can see a small smile on your face."

She nodded. "The coffee helps. But you don't have to bring me coffee," she replied and took another sip.

"Ah bon, seeing someone sad like you, I always try to make them smile a bit. It's an old habit, and it helps to pass the time on this train a bit. But don't worry, je suis marié." With a broad smile, he raised his hand to show her his wedding ring. "Happily so."

"Still, thanks."

"De rien." He took a sip from his coffee. "Alors, and I hope you don't mind, but can I ask you something?"

Hermione studied him for a moment, she still wasn't really in the mood for conversation, and most definitely not about what she thought he wanted to know. Still, she nodded.

He flashed a warm smile. "You hope to find someone in Toulon, right?"

She nodded slowly. "Someone I haven't seen in years," she admitted quietly and turned her head. No, she definitely didn't want to talk about Draco. From the corner of her eyes, she could see that the controller understood her dismissal, so he didn't bother her with further questions. She let out a sad sigh, surprised that it hurt so much trying to talk about Draco.

The last time she had seen him was on Christmas Day shortly after her wedding, and she never forgot that look in his eyes—sad, hopeless, but still full of love. Was it really on the evening of the celebration of her promotion that he realised how he felt, as he had mentioned on his cue cards? Why hadn't he said something earlier? Why hadn't he at least tried to ask her out once after that evening? He had always seemed so confident about in himself and what he wanted. But not about that. Had he considered her so far out of his league that he hadn't tried to ask her out? Or was he waiting for another clear sign from her, and she had never given him one? Gods, he had been so attentive to her afterwards, doing all kinds of little things for her, like bringing her a coffee every morning exactly the way she liked it and a few minutes for some banter before starting their respective work days amongst other things; or even listened to her ramblings when she just needed someone to listen, and maybe even mock the situation a little. She had always loved his sarcasm in those moments; it had usually helped her get her perspective back. Yes, those had been good moments between them, and she had really hoped he would ask her out to explore the chemistry back then a bit more. But maybe she should have made the first step back then, just following her gut—yes, maybe she should have. And then...

And then, things got complicated. Ron had asked her out, telling her in his own distinctive way that he had fancied her ever since the war; she had said yes because she did feel something for him as well—had ever since Hogwarts. In hindsight, everything else happened so fast; suddenly, she was properly dating Ron while clearly forgetting about Draco. Hermione winced at that memory. Gods, she had put him in the friend zone! How unfair was that? Hermione sighed. Ever since she had filed for divorce and throughout the whole humiliating experience of a publicly scandalised divorce process, she had thought a lot about that missed chance with Draco, that promise of basically unconditional love in his eyes. The more she thought about that, the more she realised that she had been a fool for letting him go, and that she was now more than willing to let him have her heart if he still wanted it. Yes, all of it.

Another announcement through the train's speakers pulled Hermione from her thoughts. The controller was announcing that they were arriving in Avignon, the train's only regular stop on its way to Toulon. She looked outside- the clouds had mostly disappeared by now, only a few stubborn ones remained, glowing in red hues as the sun neared the horizon—it was probably going to be dark when she arrived in Toulon, but she shouldn't be too late to check in for the night at the hotel whose address she had scribbled down in a hurry. She didn't know much about Avignon, but remembered that it was famous for a bridge that was mentioned in a French children's song. Maybe she could make a trip here in a few days to go visit that bridge? Like a proper Muggle tourist? She smiled broadly at that idea. Yes, why not? With that on her mind, she closed her eyes, and let herself drift off into a few dozing dreams.

.xx.

"Mademoiselle, réveillez-vous!"

"Wh-What?" Hermione jerked up from her position, and opened her eyes, staring straight in the amused face of the controller who was waking her up. After another moment, she realised that she had fallen asleep in her compartment, finally getting lulled by the sound of the tracks, that constant ba-tam ba-tam. She smiled sheepishly at him before propping herself up.

"We arrive in Toulon in a few minutes, mademoiselle," the controller informed her and took a step back, his amused smile bringing out those laughing wrinkles around his eyes.

"M-Merci. I'm sorry, I fell asleep."

"Don't worry. At least you smiled in your sleep."

Did she? She never really remembered her dreams anyway, only sometimes a lingering feeling in the morning, but yes, she felt better, hopeful even. Outside, she could see that the sky was dark now, with a few stars glinting. With another smile, she started to pack up her things—the still uneaten sandwich, the empty water bottle, and the papers. Oh yes, they went straight to the bottom of her travel bag—no need any longer to keep staring at them and look back to a load of could have beens. No, she came here to look for new opportunities, to see whether this town would bring her luck. She checked for the small note in her jacket pocket with the address of the hotel and then got up, shouldering her bag.

"Alors, mademoiselle, Toulon, gare terminus." With another smile, he let her pass and then followed her to the door where the other passengers were already waiting, including the family with their two small children.

She climbed out last with the polite help of the controller. "Merci. Especially for the coffee," she said when she was finally standing on the platform. "Even if I didn't look like it, it was much appreciated..."

"A votre service," the controller replied with a nod and another smile. "Just let him know about... about votre coeur, okay?" he added, smiling when she nodded, before returning to his work, overviewing the platform to make sure that other passengers would get off the train safely.

After a deep breath and a quick look around, Hermione followed the other passengers towards the exit. She was relieved that she had finally arrived; she could smell the salt in the air, and she immediately had the picture of burying her feet in the sand at the beach, looking out at the sea. Toulon, after all, was one of the bigger coast towns in France—at least according to what she had been able to look up before leaving London for Paris. Maybe a few days at the beach would give her enough time to figure out how to approach Draco, what she could say to apologise for her wilful blindness all those years. Just talking to him would already be a good start, rebuilding their friendship. Yes, definitely. With that thought in mind and a hopeful smile on her lips, she crossed the station hall, just following everyone else towards the exit onto the street while trying to keep others from constantly bumping into her travel bag. She had just made a few steps outside, taking in the noise and the sights of the busy street, when she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. It was a gentle touch, but it made her jump, and her heart raced in her chest; holding her breath, she slowly turned around, ready to defend herself in case. But then-

But then, her heart just stopped for a second and she gasped rather loudly when she saw who stood in front of her. Draco.

He let his hand slide down her shoulder and over her arm, his fingers gently stroking over her bared skin there. After all those years, the shape of his face had changed, softened even; and his skin had bronzed a bit, letting his platinum blond hair, now short and casually styled, stand out even more than it had. His eyes, however, had an expression of inscrutable surprise. He hadn't said a word, just looked at her, silently demanding a response.

Hermione put her travel bag on the ground between her feet; she knew what he wanted to know, she just couldn't find any words to express herself. So, instead, she gently grabbed his hand and intertwined her fingers with his; she couldn't help but smile shyly, but hopefully.

That simple gesture was all he needed, and he immediately grabbed her hand tightly, letting his emotions shine through for the first time; returning her hopeful smile, he made a step forward, closing the gap between them.

Hermione felt a rush of relief run through her whole body in response to his reaction; she had been so afraid that he didn't want to see her at all, that she had hurt him too much all those years ago. Yet, here he was, as if nothing had changed for him—he had waited for her all those years. With her free hand, she wiped her eyes that were now starting well up from the relief and all the other emotions that she had bottled up for so long in her battle for divorce. She wanted to say something, tell him what a fool she had been, and that she was sorry for everything, and... And... No, she couldn't put it into words what she felt right now, it was too much. So, all she could do right now was smile at him. And wipe those stubborn tears from her cheeks.

He let go of her hand, only to just as gently frame her face, tilting her head slightly upwards; with a similar broad smile on his lips, he wiped the stubborn tears off her cheeks for her.

Hermione held her breath at his touch, it was such a caressing gesture, and she was mesmerised by his eyes that were simply overflowing with emotion. It made her shiver, she could have had all that years ago, but better late than never. In response to his hands framing her face, she lifted her hands to his, and let her fingers gently run across his cheeks, smiling softly when he closed his eyes at the touch.

He opened his eyes again a few moments later, and let his thumb brush over her lips before he bent down to her level to press a first gentle kiss on her lips. "Finally," he whispered, his voice cracking. And then kissed her deeply, claiming her lips, her mouth, everything she had to offer.

Hermione was swept off her feet by the emotions he poured into the kiss—the love he still had for her after all those years, the pain he had gone through, the rekindled hope, and above all, relief that his waiting hadn't been in vain. Forgetting everything around them, she pulled him closer and started kissing back with abandon. The touch of his lips, the discovering tongue in her mouth was electrifying, resonating deeply inside her, and she finally let her heart take over. Yes, finally was a good word.

THE END