He pulled the blanket closer around them, pulling her closer to him, sharing his warmth with her as she rested her head against his strong chest, her book held securely in front of her, all her concentration on the page in front of her, occasionally muttering something under her breath. He accepted that it was one of the things she did, and he found it interesting, some of the things she would find important and just repeat, allowing the words to sink in and float around in the air.
"What's in name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." He looked down at her. That was a new one he'd not heard her use before. She leaned against him a bit more, turning her head into his chest, smiling at some thing.
"You alright love?" She nodded, gently closing her book. He set his down on the coffee table beside the end of the sofa.
"Yeah, that quote just always makes me sad." He lifted her up slightly against her his chest, kissing the top of her head.
"Why's that? It sounds beautiful." She looked up, smiling sadly at him, as she let out a soft sigh.
"It is beautiful. It's from a Shakespeare play about two star crossed lovers who are kept apart because they are from two rival families and Juliet is saying that it was only a name it didn't mean anything." He nodded, looking down at her eyes in the firelight. They were flashing as the fire flickered in the grate, her face bathed in splashes of red and yellow.
"Then why so sad about it?" She shrugged.
"I don't know, maybe because I'm a witch my parents don't really see as the daughter I used to be, but whether I'm a witch or not doesn't really matter to me, because I am still their daughter, and I love them." She stared into the fire, the quote replaying over and over in her head. It was only a name; it didn't make her any different. She was still their daughter, she was still their Hermione, and the fact that she was a witch shouldn't change that. But it did.
"You shouldn't get so hung up on it. When we were over your parent's for dinner last week they sounded so happy about the wedding and your Dad said that he had never seen you more happy than you have been for the past couple of years." She nodded silently, wiping away tear from her eye. He kissed the top of her head again, nestling closer to her under the blanket.
"You will always be you, no matter who are what you are called. You'll always been Hermione." She smiled, raising her hand into the firelight so she could see the light glance off her engagement ring.
"You'll still think of me the same when I'm Hermione Diggory?" Cedric grinned, turning her around in him lap so that she was facing him.
"What's in a name?" She grinned, softly kissing him.
"I love you so much." He laughed, kissing her back, as softly as though he were kissing the petals of a rose. His rose, his rose that by any other name would smell just as sweet, and whether her name were Millicent or Agnes he would still love her, because she would still be herself, the woman he loved, and the woman he wanted to marry with all his heart.
What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
That would be part of his vows, to love her no matter what, and only she understood what he was trying to say when on their first anniversary he presented with a bunch of roses, their everlasting quote written on the card.
