AN - I own nothing! I'm just borrowing from J.K. Rowling!

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Chapter 11

Sweatshirtless, but with her cap and sunglasses, Hermione smiled to herself when she saw her destination come in sight. She had been driving for a few hours, with the top down, and the cool wind blowing through her hair. And now, she was almost there. Her eyes spotted the many colors of different type of roses through the acres, as the sweet and subtle scent of them intoxicated her senses. It was good to come back to Alice's Inn and Rose Farm.

Alice's Inn and Rose Farm was a place that Hermione had been coming to for years. Ever since the first time she had come, Hermione felt more at ease, as if she was in another world. Her problems of course were for from forgotten, but they weren't exactly bothering her as much. It was a special place where she felt that time stood still at some point. No, it wasn't number one on her list of being her favorite place in the whole world, which was being in Severus's arms. For some odd reason though, the place made her feel content at one point. Her addiction to alcohol was forgotten as she would rarely to never drink.

Other than that, Hermione made well with the people in the farm and the small main town nearby. She mixed in well with them, and for people who didn't know her, she seemed like a local. Friendships were formed, but they were nothing like Hermione had in the past. Purposely, she kept herself at a certain distance from them, or put up a wall. Losing her friends and only man she loved before had crushed her beyond limits, and she didn't want that to happen again. She drew a line between her life here, and her life in San Francisco and the U.K. People in the town were close, and she became one of them easily.

Alice Wallace was the proprietor of Alice's Inn and Rose Farm. She was an elderly woman, and became a mother figure to Hermione in ways. The wizarding world wasn't unknown to her. Truth be told, she was a muggle born witch, but decided not to live her life around magic. Her employees as well knew about the secret world, as they were all squibs. They all worked together, making the business grow into what it was, never using the aid of magic. Orders for roses weren't only made nationwide, but worldwide, in both worlds. People also from all over, visited the inn, and learned much about roses.

Hermione was one of them, and surprisingly, she had the touch for roses, having the special green thumb. Before, she only found roses nice to look at. Only when Severus started to give them to her when they were together was when she found them fascinating. It was on one lonesome work day when she found an ad on Alice's Inn and Rose Farm. Her fascination only grew after that.

"Hermione!" a man exclaimed as he stood in front of the steps on the inn. When her car pulled up in front of him, he opened the door, and greeted her with a quick but firm hug.

"Hey Dean," Hermione smiled.

Dean Williams was the head farmer for Alice, and also one of her right hand men. The other man was Philippe Garson, a French man who was in charge of the inn. His position was concierge. Even without Alice around to keep an eye on things all the time, the two made sure the place ran smoothly.

"Where's Alice?" Hermione asked.

"Inside, handling a few calls. She's in her office and wants to see you about and talk over some legal stuff." Dean answered. Hermione's bandaged hand didn't go unnoticed. "What happened to your hand?"

"Just got into a minor accident the other day. Nothing to worry over." Hermione turned and reached out to get her luggage on the small backseats of her Mini.

Dean stopped Hermione before she could lift a single thing out of the car. "Don't. I'll do that after I park your car. Go on inside." When Hermione didn't budge, he pushed her lightly her towards the entrance.

The few times that Hermione had come, she had become one of them and even worked in the area, doing physical labor that visitors weren't supposed to do. Her devotion to roses and the place grew deep, as she too got her hands dirty just like all the other employees. Never did she complain. He and the others would object and remember that she was a customer, but eventually, she was really more than that. Hermione was always one to help others, and she enjoyed it, objecting back with her stubbornness.

"Fine," Hermione sighed as she moved forward. She looked over her shoulder, and smirked. "I'll be using your pick-up truck again when I get around."

"You should get your own," Dean said getting in the Mini, before driving it to the parking lot at the side of the inn.

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The inn had a warm and inviting feel once inside. Despite it being a large in, it had a homey feeling that Hermione liked. Alice's Rose Farm and Inn was her home away from… No, it couldn't be called home. London was home long before, in another lifetime. San Francisco on the other hand, though she lived there for years, she still felt at a loss at times.

If Hermione could have things her way, she would build a small cottage on one side of the property and live there. Alice lived in the inn, having a private area to herself. No, a cottage is what Hermione really wanted, it would make her feel closer to the roses and nature. She wasn't even interested in going to any other flower farm in the world. Nothing compared to this place, the nearby town, and its people. It was her own private place to have solitude from everything, even if it was only temporary.

Hermione took off her sunglasses as she walked through the lobby. She smiled casually at the people who looked at her, whether they were customers or employees. When she saw Philippe, she gave him a wave, deciding not to bother him as he dealt with a couple. Spotting the vacant restaurant, she decided to take a small detour.

As soon as she walked in it, her nostrils flooded with the wonderful scent of food, making her mouth start to water somewhat. The smell was coming from the back door next to the bar. It opened up to the kitchen of the inn.

"What's cooking?" Hermione asked stepping into the kitchen with a wide smile.

Everyone in the kitchen, who was in a chef's attire, turned to look at Hermione. One in particular, who was a chubby woman and stuck out like a sore thumb wearing the only pink clothes in the kitchen, dropped her spatula in her mixing bowl, and went to her straight away. "Hermione!" she exclaimed happily.

"Hey Sheila," Hermione greeted her as the both hugged.

Sheila McKenn was the head chef of the kitchen. She cooked everything with such love and passion for food. It showed in her cooking, as everything tasted wonderful. A seasonal chef is what she was as she cooked with local products. Among everyone in the inn, she was the most lively. Always and mostly joyful, wanting to make everyone around her happy, and food was her secret weapon.

Again, Hermione's bandaged hand became a topic when Sheila saw it. Hermione's answer was the same as she told Dean earlier. She didn't want people to worry so much over her, especially her hand. Everyone knew it was her bad hand, but it really was nothing to worry over about.

"So, what do you want for dinner later on?" Sheila asked Hermione.

"Anything's fine Sheila, you know me," she answered. "I'll eat everything you cook 'cause it's all fabulous." She saw the big refrigerator and headed towards it, knowing that was in it. "But I'll have a rose macaroon, if you mind."

"Oh, try the one that's a little darker in color. I added some mint in them," Sheila informed Hermione.

Hermione did as told, and happily started to eat on one of the two little desserts she had in hand. Sheila made the best macaroons. She would eat all of them if they weren't so rich. "Well, I got to talk to the boss," she said before she left the kitchen and left Sheila and everyone else to continue on with their jobs.

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Before knocking on the door, Hermione paused for a moment as she tried to figure out what Alice wanted to talk to her about. Never did she get involved with the business, crossing the line of 'Mind your own business.' Hermione only voiced out her opinions on roses, and worked around, nothing more. It wasn't her place, and she wasn't one to pry.

The word legal though stuck in her ears, thanks to Dean. What legal stuff did the woman want to talk about? After enough thinking, she finally knocked on the door, and opened it once she was invited in.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you again," Alice said brightly as she stood from behind her desk, walking to greet her in a welcoming hug. "I actually expected you sooner a few weeks ago since you've been coming here more. At least here you are."

"Well, things have been really fucked up these past few months Alice. Seems like life will never give me a break, putting more shit on my plate." Hermione shook her head and sighed as she scratched her brow with her right hand.

"What happened to your hand?" Alice asked worriedly.

"It's not what you think. I was holding a crystal glass in my hand before I lost control of it," Hermione explained. "My injuries though are not what's bothering me."

As Alice sat behind her desk, she watched Hermione as the young witch made her way to the window, staring outside. "Pining over him again?" Alice asked.

Hermione's man, whoever his name was became a subject that Hermione would only talk about with her. Only the need to knows was what Alice knew—no name, no picture. She didn't ask for more, and simply allowed Hermione to speak her heart when those times came.

Alice had become more than a shoulder to lean on, and was more like a mother figure to her so to speak. It was also similar the other way around as she looked at Hermione like the daughter that she never had. Their relationship may have just been brief and simple, but it was deep and had meaning.

Alice knew how Hermione felt, but in some circumstances, her love life long ago was very different. She couldn't marry the wizard that her heart belonged to. And like Hermione, never again did she love. She didn't like it when she saw herself in her. And what's worse is that it seemed that Hermione was in a deeper, and darker position than she was long before. No one deserved to live in such misery, most especially Hermione. She was a good judge at character. She saw Hermione as a good and very genuine person, and was more than just the war hero that people knew about. The young witch was really just looking understanding and meaning in life, and most of all love that could mend her broken heart.

"He's back in my life, and I mean literally," Hermione explained. She glanced at Alice briefly seeing the confusion on her face. "My boss has finally made me work on my potion's project again, on the condition that I work with him."

"What?" Alice asked softly in surprise.

"Of all the potions masters in the world, it had to be him," Hermione snorted. "No surprise, he's the best of the best."

"And I take it, things aren't going well?"

"No. He hates me, and said so himself. He's even moved on and is engaged to marry a French perfume maker, who by the way is perfect—poised, pretty and all. It's a love hate relationship that we have. He takes care of me because he has to. And at the end of it all, even though he's being a bastard with painful words, I still love him." Hermione sniffled as she went silent for a few minutes before she spoke again. "Thanks for sending me the dead roses again."

"You asked me to send them. Maybe I should stop with the way things are going," Alice suggested.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I need to be reminded more that things are over between us. Like a dead rose, our love is dead, and no more. Let's just change the subject. Why did you want to see me? Dean said it was something legal?" she asked as her eyes remained casting over the farm outside the window.

"I am handling a few things at a time," Alice replied. It wasn't easy to say what she was going to say next, but she was going to say it eventually. "I'm selling the farm."

Hermione's head snapped as she faced Alice. She couldn't believe what she just heard. "What? Why? It's doing so well."

"I'm an old woman Hermione," Alice started to explain. "Most of my life has been devoted to this farm. I need to venture out, travel the world. Maybe do things I've never done before.

"I've made up my decision Hermione, and the offers have been coming in. However, if possible, I prefer that you would buy it. I feel and know that there is no one else better to handle it than you. Frankly, your green thumb is better than mine. I saw roses I thought I would never imagine, thanks to your hybrids, that I thought would never work in the first place. You are very much like me, and I see you as the daughter I never had. You have such passion for roses—passion bigger than mine. You will do this place well."

Hermione dragged her feet slowly as she made her way towards one of the two chairs, across Alice's desk. Her brain tried to register what was happening. Alice was actually offering her to have the farm. She never thought that this day would come at any point. The opportunity was right in front of her, but could she accept?

It was recently over the years that Hermione too discovered her green thumb. She loved roses, there was no denying that. She loved spending her time in Alice's farm, and worked around it on many occasions. But buy it? Grow roses for a living? It was something completely different when she was still in Hogwarts. Potions was what she excelled in, loved and chose to be her career path, nothing related to Herbology.

"Can you give me some time to think about it?" she asked.

"Of course dear," Alice replied with a small smile. "Now that you've told me that you're working again, I'll give you some months to think about it. No rush here."

Soon after, Hermione had made it up to her room, and stared blankly at the luggage that she had yet to unpack. The last thing on her mind though wasn't luggage, but what Alice and she just talked about. She was completely at a crossroads in her life, standing still in a complete pause. Where would she go from here?

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AN – Now you all know what the dead rose means to Hermione. Review!
(Still haven't gotten around to get my laptop fixed. Will get to it when I can. Again please check my blog for any updates.)