A/N: Hello everyone. I know it's been ages since my last upload but between birthdays, my son's high school graduation, and just summer in general, it's been hard to find the time or the motivation to write. This chapter has turned out so different than I originally intended, but I hope it is well received. The party is closing in, as is the wedding and honestly, I don't really want to write a wedding, but I know it's a big part of this story. I hope this is the last bit of Thorfinn/Hermione drama for a while, they both seem to calm in my head, not as much angst and contemplation about their situation, hopefully, it will be easier to write after this chapter. I hope you all like it, let me know in the chapter reviews if you thought it was crap. I happen to like how it turned out.

Peace, Love, and Slyther,

Gimi aka Jess

The following days have Hermione a chance to think over the chaos of the visit with her mother. Rodolphus had not said much the rest of that day, tired from his confrontation with his wife and the guilt that constantly weighed him down. Hermione respected his need for silence. She had already known he was regretful about his actions in the war, she no longer felt the pull to separate him as her father. She had to admit that he was beginning to fill that role in her heart, not replacing Graham Granger, but she was starting to see him more as a father than as a pseudo-father along the lines of Mr Weasley.

Bellatrix was still a long way from what Hermione would consider "mother" material, but the last visit had opened some doors of understanding for Hermione. In her mind, she had not mentally combined Bellatrix "her mother" to Bellatrix "the Death Eater" as the same person. The traumas she had witnessed as well as the breakdown, she was still unsure of how to process and proceed with her mother. She was a far cry from the loving mother that Jean Granger had been, but Hermione was beginning to piece her past together, seeing bits of the mother she had had in her earliest years.

Hermione stepped out of the grate of Rowling Hills. She had not visited the home yet, Thorfinn and Ingrid always came to the manor instead, but after the few days she had, she felt compelled to visit her fiancé in his domain. Looking around, she was surprised that it was light and airy, she had expected dark woods and drapery, but the room she was met with white moulded walls and light grey furnishings. A large chandelier hung above her with large open windows flanking the fireplace as well as a portrait on the adjacent wall.

"Hermione," Ingrid said as she walked into the room, "This is a surprise, how are you?" Curiosity clouded Ingrid's blue eyes as she took in her soon-to-be sister in law.

Hermione gave the blonde woman a smile, "Good, I know I wasn't expected, but I…"

Ingrid shook her head and said, "You don't need an excuse to come here. As Finn's bride, you have every right to our home."

Hermione gave her a small smile, which Ingrid returned, "I believe Finn is in the garden." As she said this, Ingrid turned slightly and invited Hermione to follow her.

Hermione snorted, and trailed behind her, mumbling about men and their broomsticks. This made Ingrid chuckle, knowing she expected Thorfinn to be playing quidditch.

The two women walked out into the expansive garden, Hermione could hear men in the air and began to search the sky. While she saw two men flying, she quickly realised that her hulking Viking was not one of them. Ingrid smirked at her obvious searching and tapped Hermione on the shoulder. After catching the woman's eye, she motioned towards a greenhouse in the far corner of the space. The realisation hit Hermione and giving her new friend a small smile, she began her trek toward the building.

Following the cobblestone path, Hermione could hear the men landing where she had left Ingrid and the mumbles of conversation fading behind her. The tall white building was much nicer than the greenhouses of her school days. Standing before her was a proper English conservatory if she was not mistaken. Made of white columns and glass panes, she could see every surface had plants covering. Towards the back of the sun-filled room, she could see her blond Viking, trimming a flutterfly bush. It was an odd sight, the tall hulking man being as delicate with his plants as most parents were with a newborn.

Thorfinn heard soft footfalls behind him and smiled, "This is a first Hermione."

Hermione laughed, "How did you know it was me," she asked as she walked up next to him.

Thorfinn, trimming his last segment, turned his blue eyes on his fiancée, gave her a smile, "That is my surprise, Princess."

Hermione, unused to the lack of sarcasm in his voice, felt a warmth of blood rush to her face. It was startling how much she was beginning to be affected by his words and affections. She was sure, she would never find herself attracted to this man. Not after all she had known about him and his obvious misdeeds. Though, standing next to him in this greenhouse, as she watched the flutterfly branch caress his blond locks, gave her reason to believe that she may not know her future husband as well as she thought.

"This is an impressive greenhouse," Hermione said looking around, "Looks to be more than an average potioneer's selection of plants."

Thorfinn grinned, proud of his family's heritage, "Yes, well Rowles have always been a family who demanded the best when my great uncle Tiberius became a potions master, he decided the only way to get near perfect potions was to grow his own plants. His brother was a… scholar of sorts, travelling and learning. He would send rare subspecies of plants home and they have been here ever since. Uncle Tiberius married Griselda, an esteemed herbologist. She made sure that all the Rowles elves knew how to care for these plants, in cases of generations who did not have an affinity for plants."

"What is with Pureblood families and their need for the best," Hermione said with a teasing lilt, "You sound like Draco did in school."

Thorfinn chuckled as he bent down to grab the trowel that a stray stem of the flutterfly flicked off the table.

As he did this, Hermione got an eyeful of Thorfinn's denim clad ass. She began to feel the blood rush to her face as she realised she had been staring at his form. She couldn't remember if she had ever felt he was attractive in school. Hermione knew, deep down, that Thorfinn Rowle had been so in school if the rumours she had heard from the witches around the school and her friends were anything to think about, but she had been so young when they first crossed paths and their subsequent meetings had been nothing worth remembering. This Thorfinn, the one that she had been exposed to now, this man was extremely attractive.

Thorfinn began to chuckle as he stood up, "Love, I can feel your eyes on me,"

Hermione blushed harder, averting her eyes to the far side of the greenhouse, "I… uh, thought you might be flying with Adrian."

Thorfinn chuckled at her obvious change of subject, "I do fly, especially when I first came home." He said as he turned back to his work, "But really, I am more comfortable right here," to emphasize his words, he patted the moist soil around his plant. "Without a wand, this is one portion of my life that I don't need one and therefore can do this alone."

He looked up to see confusion in her eyes, "You don't need magic to tend plants. Most magi use it because of convenience, but you can tell what a plant needs without it."

Grabbing her hand, he laid it atop the soil, "What do you feel," he asked whispering in her ear, almost giving her a loving caress.

Hermione held back a shiver as she rubs the soft dirt between her fingers, "Uh… it's wet." She said lamely.

Thorfinn chuckled and placed his hand on top of hers and cradled it around, digging their hands, entwined, deep into the moist earth, "Is it too saturated? Too dry? Are the roots deep enough within the pot? Take a look at the leaves, do they seem parched? Is the pot big enough or is it time to re-pot? Do the branches look too wild? This plant's magical properties work better when harvested at dusk, does it look like we have to do it tonight? Tomorrow?"

Hermione looked up into his blue eyes, "You can tell all that from the soil and looking at it?" Thorfinn raised an eyebrow at her and she bristled, "What? I took herbology in school, but it was never my forte. I learned what was necessary, this was not something that was taught."

Thorfinn grinned, "Ah, Love, But it was. Professor Sprout always did this. This was one of the things I would actually help her with. The boy from your class, the clumsy one. Longbottom, he had just started helping when I left school, your fourth year. He's actually a cousin of mine, I forget where on the tree, but he is the nephew of my Great Aunt Griselda, I don't know how many times removed."

Hermione stared in wonder, "You helped Professor Sprout?"

Thorfinn nodded, "Yes, Sprout and Snape. I used to help brew potions for the hospital wing."

"Brewed potions?"

Thorfinn grinned, "Don't sound so surprised, Slytherins are ambitious, we didn't all just sit around trying to plot the downfall of your Potter, I was studying for my mastery entrance since I was in the fourth year, I needed the O. and the N.E. , plus the hands-on experience. Snape and Sprout both knew what I was trying to accomplish."

"But we don't get career advice until the fifth year," Hermione pointed out.

Thorfinn nodded, "You didn't, Snape had been prepping us to think of our futures in the third year. Most of the Slytherins come from well off families, most were planning on marrying and running households or going into the family businesses. So they didn't need extra lessons or mentoring. I could have chosen to run the family business, but I always enjoyed helping the elves tend the garden and knew I wanted to be a master Potioneer," he revealed, pulling his hand out of the dirt and wiping them on his denims, "I had been accepted to study abroad, with Master Samson in America…" he said almost wistfully.

"What happened?"

Thorfinn looked at her and said, somberly, "The Dark Lord came back and it was my destiny to fulfil my father's oath." He looked away, "I was marked a week before I was to leave for America. You know, I never believed the blood purity shit. I mean, I didn't care one way or another about muggles or muggleborns. My family did, and I grew up around fanatics, just like Malfoy. Really though, I had no opinion. I didn't have any muggleborn friends, those aren't so easy to come by when you're in Slytherin. I knew I'd have to, one day, settle down with some pureblood witch that my parents chose, but that was just what expected of me. Just like it was expected I play quidditch, or that I excel in potions. But I figured once I was away from my family, once I was in America, I could breathe a little easier. Away from the stifling environment of my parents. But I never got that chance. My mother was killed for opposing my marking, my father, while he loved her in his own way, he was bound by oath."

Thorfinn looked back down at Hermione, resolve in his eye and said, "I won't lie, I took the mark willing, only for Ingrid. If I refused, I would have been killed like my mother, and Ingrid would have been marked. The Rowle Heir, marked into servitude. I negotiated with my father, mostly to get her away from this war, but also to keep her from seeing the monster I was supposed to become. She was married days after she left Hogwarts and Adrian took her to Paris, never allowing her back until recently. I refused her owls, refused her setting foot back into the country, to be associated with her Death Eater family. In Paris, she was safe."

Hermione rubbed the dirt on her hand a little, contemplating what Thorfinn had just revealed to her. She looked back at him only to find that he had turned to the table behind them, hands in fists, and head down. Taking her hand out of the soil, she went to him, placed her hand on his back and rubbed rhythmically, silently thanking him for opening up to her.

"You know," Hermione said quietly as she looked down at Thorfinn's clenched fist, "I spent years in school trying to keep my best friends alive. Spent many nights trying to find my place in this world. I always had this… need to prove to everyone that I, Hermione Jean Granger belonged here," she placed her own hand on his, smoothing out his fists, "I never felt like I belonged in the muggle world. I mean, my parents doted on me, don't be mistaken, they never made me feel unloved or out of place. But, the world in general… I was not a well-liked child. I made peculiar things happen around me. I was asked to leave a nursery class because I somehow made all the boys' hair turn bright purple because they wouldn't share their toys with a girl. When I received my letter and stepped through the Leaky Cauldron for the first time, it was like a warm breeze. It was comfortable, the magic around me, felt like it was welcoming me home."

Thorfinn stood there, listening to his witch speak as she pulled his hand down and around her waist. He could see a hint of trepidation in her eyes, a fear of rejection as she placed herself in his arms. His large hands openly caressed her hips as her hands rested on his forearms. She leaned her back against the table and sighed, looking into his blue eyes.

"I was so excited to finally belong, then to find out, people still thought I didn't. For seven years, Harry, Ron, and I fought back. Then I was finally settled, finally accepted by the Wizarding World and another…" Thorfinn raised an eyebrow at Hermione and she groaned, placing her forehead on his chest, staring at her feet for a moment before lifting her eyes to him again, "You know, better than anyone besides my father, how much our lives were thrown into chaos. I was finally feeling like the world was accepting me and then I find out my parents weren't my biological parents, that my real parents were supposedly people I was fighting against and some of the most vocal, and the man I was to marry, would never be."

"What do you want me to say, Granger?" Thorfinn said, a bit angry that she continued to mull on their lives. That she continued to dwell on things that no one could change. He attempted to drop his hands and Hermione grabbed him.

"Nothing," she said shaking her head, "I know that it seems like I'm dwelling on my old life. Like I'm not willing to move forward to our future, to our lives. I know it's not just my life that's been thrown into upheaval. I came here to see… well, I don't know what I was expecting to see, certainly not this, but I know this is my life, our lives now. I've come to realise that I'm not going into it as I did before. I'm not as angry as I once was. I'm not even as angry about my parents as I had been. While Bella has a long way to go, for me to consider her my mother, Rodolphus… he's… different? While I never thought life was black and white, this experience has shown me just how grey it really is. How prejudiced I was myself."

Hermione's voice trailed off as she glanced off into the distance, spotting Ingrid, Adrian, and Marcus laughing in the garden, "It was easy to accept Draco, Pansy, and the rest. Easy to see they had changed or never wanted it. That they were coerced or too young to see clearly. I hate to admit that when it came to my parents, or you, or even Lucius, that I assumed the choices you all had made, were your own. It really never occurred to me that there could have been outside influences, not just blood propaganda."

Thorfinn snorted, "I'm sure there were many that believed in the dung that the Dark Lord spouted, especially in your parents' generation. Dolohov definitely believed, as did my father before he died, but while many of us joined the cause, it was more out of family obligation or fealty paths of generations before, than because we believed. Not saying anyone who joined is innocent, we all did despicable things during the war, but we weren't all evil."

Hermione nodded, her eyes taking in Thorfinn's wild hair, thrown into a messy… was that a bun? Despite the deep conversation they had been having, Hermione began to chuckle at the thought of her fiancé putting his mane into what could only be called, a man bun. Thorfinn raised an eyebrow which set off another bout of laughter, Hermione's small frame began to shake with her inability to stop herself from laughing. The picture was just too funny and she wondered how she had not noticed his hair, to begin with.

Thorfinn watched his little witch with amusement, it was rare for them to have a light moment. It seemed they had only had moments of emotional upheaval and her laughter was a nice change. He sighed with a hint of a smile and subconsciously leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead. Startled, Hermione jumped slightly before she leaned in herself, enjoying his full lips on her skin. Deep down, she still felt a tinge of guilt, but surprisingly, it didn't overwhelm her as it had in the past. Being there, in his arms, his lips on her, it was starting to feel natural. So natural that the thoughts of Ron didn't enter her mind.

With a contented sigh, she traced her fingers on the muscles on his forearms up past his biceps and onto his shoulders, gripping them firmly as she lifted her head, lips parted, her face still so close to his, she felt his beard tickle her nose.

"Are you planning on kissing me?" She asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Thorfinn's eyes slid to her's, "Do you want me to?" He hoped she'd said yes. Merlin, the progress of their physical affection toward each other had made a great deal of headway, but Thorfinn was still hoping she would allow him to sink his cock so deep within her tight walls that she could taste him. It had been many moons since his cock had a warm, wet, inviting core. He was dreaming of his witch nightly, in a variety of positions, on her knees, cock in mouth, hand on balls, tied to his four-poster at Hogwarts, her teeny skirt around her waist with her legs open for him to feast on, and his favourite at the moment,them, in the tub, her on his lap, chasing her orgasm, taking control of her own pleasure, flicking her bead over and over, coming apart on his dick until she can't any longer and allows him to finish inside her. He didn't wish to remind himself of the tiny tidbit of the last fantasy. The glimmer of hope that sparked in his dream self, that his witch would be with child after that.

Thorfinn was not sure when his thoughts of his witch went from taming her to more marital. He had noticed he didn't mind thinking of her as his wife. He even went from purely kinky sexual fantasies to more domesticated ones. He was surprised how much he enjoyed spending time with her, watching her react to simple things, her temper, as she tried to control it, sometimes failing. Her passion turned him on, but her strength was also a turn on. She continued to surprise him. She was not the swotty young girl he remembered. She wasn't the same girl he had duelled within the cafe, no this Hermione, she had a different strength inside of her. He knew it. The war had changed her, their bond had changed her even more.

"Finn, did you hear me?"

Thorfinn shook his head a bit and returned Hermione's gaze and smirked, "sorry, I was fantasizing about you on this bench." His smirk grew to a smile as he watched her cheeks flush pink, "am I to assume by that tinge of colour, you are not opposed to my dirty thoughts of you naked, beneath my fingers and tongue?"

Hermione whimpered a little, her legs shaking as she felt her core moisten at the thought of his tongue on her flesh. Thorfinn lifted her off her feet and sat her onto the table he had been leaning on, placing her legs around his waist, she was trapped between his arms, his chest was almost pressed against her own, her nipples, hard against her blouse.

Placing his chest against her's, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Do you want me to kiss you, Love? Are you ready for that? Ready for my lips on you, my hands knotted in your hair, your robes hiked up your waist?"

Hermione closed her eyes and moaned, he was making her head foggy. She knew she was ready for more affection, despite what she had told her friends just days ago, it was that same day she realised that she was ready to go further. Maybe it had been her fight with Ron, maybe her talk with Harry, but she was finding herself open to… maybe not sex, but definitely more.

Sitting there, atop the table, was that not what she had wanted? Deep down? Why she had come to Rowling Hills in the first place? Not necessarily to get laid, but to find redeeming qualities in her fiancé. To connect with him on a different level. Her brain told her that it was inevitable, that she was to be married to him, and quickly. She needed to find something they could build on. She resigned herself to the knowledge now that, she really had no clue about him, personally. Finding out his ambitions before the war and his reasoning for joining the Death Eaters made her see the grey within him, he was not evil like she once thought. He was a victim of family obligation, not unlike herself. It was not lost on her, that had she have been brought up with her family, that she could have been in the same position as Thorfinn and her cousin. She could bear the same mark on her arm, had she not been swept away by her elf on the orders of her parents.

Hermione ran her hands down the front of his chest, feeling the hard… very hard… planes of muscle, the ridges of…

"Hermione," Thorfinn groaned, as she touched him, "Hermione if you don't stop, I am- I can't- Fuck, Love, it's been a long time and if you insist on touching me so seductively, I might take you right here."

Images of Thorfinn holding down on the table as he pushed in and out of her body, them rolling around, dirt smudged on their faces and bodies as they— fucked—, began to play in Hermione's mind, bringing a smirk to her face.

"Finn," Hermione said, her breathing quickened as his hands found their way back to her waist, under her blouse, leaving a hot trail up her stomach, and to the edge of her bra. His fingers ghosted her taut nipple as Hermione moved involuntarily forward, filling his hand of her body.

Thorfinn bit back a groan and looked his fiancée in the eye, "Say it, Hermione. Say you are ready. Say you won't regret this tomorrow. I have been patient, I've been more accommodating for you than ever before. I need to hear the words. I need to know.

Hermione raised a hand to his mouth, stopping his words, "Finn, I can't say I'm ready for sex. I don't believe I am yet," she moaned once more at his fingers pinching her nipple, "But… uh, I am ready to explore each other more intimately. I know I've been holding you at arm's length, our physical contact has been limited and I appreciate the space, whether you did it because I needed to or because of other reasons. I'm grateful to you, allowing me to be ready. I did not come here for this, but I am not ashamed for wanting you. I no longer feel guilty for wanting to feel your hands on my body, to feel your body beneath mine." She said this as she caressed her way down to the outline, growing ever harder trapped within his denims.

She leaned even closer, her hand between them, boldly rubbing against his member, her face next to his ear, enjoying the way he grabbed onto her breast, "I'm not ready for sex, but I'm hoping you would kiss me, Finn. I want to feel your lips on my body," Hermione whispered in his ear. She was shocked at the wanton way she was behaving. She did not know where this version of herself came from, as she began to mew when his free hand began to move her skirt up her leg. His hot mouth had found itself moving against her neck.

She continued to move her hand against the rough fabric, a bit angry that she could not get a good grip on his girth. Waving her hand just a touch, the buckle and zip magically undid itself and she was pleased to see that Thorfinn had not taken to wearing any underwear beneath his denims. His rigid cock almost leapt into her hand, sticky pre-cum already leaking from the tip. She mumbled slightly as Thorfinn moaned, her hand slick with lubricant as she began to move it along his length. She could not tell his size, but it felt more than pleasant in her hand.

Thorfinn could not believe his luck, Hermione was sitting here, open to him, ready for him to explore. While burying himself deep within her would have been preferred, he didn't mind a bit of foreplay. It took him back to Hogwarts. A bit of fingering or a blowjob in broom cupboards, groping under the trees on the grounds. It reminded him of a less stressful times.

He moved his hand to the bit of silk at her apex, he could feel the heat radiating from her core. Moaning in need as he felt her hand grip him tightly, he bucked against her as he pulled the scrap of material away and felt her soft skin for the first time. He bit his lip as he traced the seam with his index finger, the lips of her body parting easily for him. Her body was wet and inviting as she shivered with need. Hermione moaned as his finger came close to her clit, already engorged and almost pulsating. His hand moved lower as he found her entrance and began to move up and down between her labia, clit, and entrance, collecting her wetness as he pushed little by little inside her body.

"Finn," she moaned, her own hand moving erratically against him, unable to concentrate while he explored her. Her body moved forward to claim his hand further within her, "Finn I need more."

Thorfinn grinned against neck at her breathy voice. It was nice to know that she was just as eager as he was at the moment, chasing the snitch, so to speak. Her small hands felt much better than his own around his cock. The spell she had used made her fingers feel like a hot fire on a cold night and he bloody well loved it. He could feel himself at the peak, not to be outdone by his witch, he pushed his fingers deep within her, marvelling at the heat within her own body, listening to her moan in delight. His thumb pushed methodically against the flesh above her nub, careful not to overload her senses too much. Her breathing became more shallow, the smell of their combined arousal was thick in the air.

"Hermione," he grunted out as he was almost past his point, "Love, let go." Curling his fingers slightly, he felt it before he heard her. The tightening around his hand, the fluid pooling in his hand. Bringing his hand out from under her shirt, he pulled her in for a kiss as he felt his body contract and release his seed, groaning in completion into her mouth, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth like he wished his cock was doing inside her.

Meanwhile, Hermione's brain was in an afterglow fog. It had been years since she had fooled around with a man in such a manner. The adrenaline still coursing through her body, she felt rejuvenated at their combined satisfaction. His sticky seed coated her hands, as did her's on his. She noticed, he continued to finger fuck her, almost absentmindedly, and she had to admit, she loved it. His long fingers fucking her, it felt natural, right.

Hermione waved her hand and vanished the mess from his orgasm, then tucked him back within his denims. Thorfinn had ceased their hot snog but continued to pepper her neck with wet kisses, she was sure he had marked her skin at least a half dozen times as he continued with more vigour, sliding his fingers into her body. She moaned, bringing her legs further apart as he continued, she began to chant his name as her second orgasm started to build. As he added a third finger, her hands joined his, pushing him deeper. Thorfinn felt her body release again and he grinned in victory. A part of him happy that his name was on her lips as she came. He was not expecting this when she came into the greenhouse, but he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.