Then, after some really good chicken, Hermione packed up Ron's things and then they climbed into the fireplace and flooed the uncomfortably long distance to his manor. Ron seemed to understand what was happening less than Severus him self but that did little to comfort him. Hermione looked as cheerful as he'd seen in a while now that she had a project. It took Ron forever to finally lose that glaze over his eyes and say, "Wait, hold on..." but he was too far in and there was little he could do but hold on.
Severus wanted to give him the help's house where they flooed into but Hermione glared that option away and so Severus stopped making suggestions and left her to her own devices while he went into the wine cellar to find a bottle of whiskey he knew he'd stored down there once for an occasion such as this. He brought two cups up, and then three in case he wanted to sedate Hermione later, and sat in the kitchen and when a house elf scurried by, he ordered dinner to be served in the formal dining room from now on, starting tomorrow. Company was company, after all, he thought. He poured a tall drink. Slytherins had manners, even in the face of two Gryffindors half his age.
He moved to his study and worked on the article he'd been writing about his and Hermione's early work the time turning potion. He'd progressed a lot while she was in her coma, having nothing to fill the void in his life with but research. He'd not tested it but he'd already sold the early rights to an enormous potions company located in America while still retaining the right to work on the potion himself. He'd nearly doubled his already enormous wealth by doing so. He'd not told Hermione but he would. She knocked on his door a while later.
"I put him in one of the guest rooms, the blue and while one over looking the tennis courts." she said from the doorway.
"That will be fine." he said. "However, I don't intend my house to be his personal day spa. He did not come here to wallow in a different environment. You will put him to work or I will."
"That is what I hoped would happen." she said. "I know you'd probably prefer never to see Ron again but he's my friend and I think I need him as much as he needs me right now."
"Whatever you wish, dear." he said, dryly and she smacked his arm lightly. "I told the elves – dinner is to be formal from now on." he added and she rolled her eyes but indulged him as he was indulging her.
"I'm going to start planning the wedding." she said, a little uncertainly. "Is there anything particular that you want or something I ought to know that I don't?"
"There are people to hire to help you with this." he told her. She rolled her eyes.
"That's a waste of money." she said.
"Hermione, love, we have money to waste. Hiring a witch will assure that you don't miss any details from either tradition." he said. She knew he was trying to appeal to her sense of logic but he was right and so she nodded and he told her he'd get her a name by morning.
Hermione watched Ron sleep three days later. It was 2:47 in the afternoon and nearly every time she came to his room, he was asleep in the bed. She'd given him the room that was decorated all in blue and white stripes, with light hardwood floors and a twin bed. He'd just left his trunk in the middle of the floor and its contents were starting to creep out across the room. The only time he was out of bed was to use the bathroom or when Severus insisted he come to the formal dinners he'd started having. Even then, he looked rumpled in his robes and his eyes had a glassy look. He was unresponsive at best. Now, she watched him determined to get him out of bed and back into the world of living. Harry had done the same sort of thing after they'd lost Sirius but this was much worse and had lasted lots longer. Hermione did the same thing now that she did to Harry. She filled a large pitcher with water and charmed it to near freezing. Then, soundlessly, she dumped it over his sleeping head.
He sat up with a sputter and she thumped his back harder than strictly necessary while he coughed. Finally, he pulled himself out of the soggy bedclothes and glared at her.
"I get the point." he said and trudged into the bathroom leaving wet footprints behind him to shower and change. She cleaned the mess with a wave of the wand and went downstairs to wait for him. When he appeared in jeans and a white t-shirt with his red hair still damp, she went into the garden and he followed. They walked through the garden out into the vineyard. She wore a green apron of a sturdy material and a large brimmed straw hat to protect her skin from the sun. In the pocket of her apron was a pair of cutters and many green, plastic ties. "What are we doing out here, its bright." he complained.
"We're working outside. Here," she handed him the pliers and produced another pair for herself. "Cut off all of the larger leaves that are taking nutrients from the fruit." she ordered, clipping a few of the larger leaves from the top of the vine. Ron hadn't even noticed the small bunches of tiny green grapes at were beginning to form. He touched one gently. They were soft. "Then," she continued, "take the green ties and help coax the branches into the shape of the wire supports." she said. "Everything gets too garbled if you let it just naturally grow. It isn't efficient. But if you do it this way," she demonstrated by pulling a wayward branch and tying it securely to the wooden frame. "everything is neat and tidy and it makes harvest much easier."
Ron, unwilling to admit that the idea of a vineyard was rather interesting, looked at her with his hand to his eyes to block the sun. "Wouldn't this be easier with magic?" he asked.
"Ronald, sometimes it's better to do things the old fashioned way."
"Magic is the old fashioned way." he said. "Wizards were mastering magic before muggles had even discovered the wheel."
"The hard way, then. It's better to do it, oh, just do what I say." She said and turned to her part of the vine. They worked quietly for a while.
"You don't expect us to do this whole vineyard, do you?" he asked, finally, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm and streaking dirt there.
"We'll start with the row just for today." she assured him for she was not impervious to the heat herself. "Isn't it nice to be outside?"
"I suppose." he said. The sun was a nice change from being indoors all the time. It was the first time he'd done something productive since Harry died. But that was the problem. He missed Harry when he was awake. He missed Harry and so all he wanted to do was go back to sleep where it was dark and quiet and it didn't hurt quite so badly.
Hermione paused in her snipping and tying when she noticed that Ron had froze – had stopped working and she caught his shoulders shaking out of the corner of her eye.
"Oh, Ron." she said, setting her clippers down and taking his hand. There was nothing to say to soothe or console him for there were no words she could utter that would bring their best friend back. All that would help was the passing of time and perhaps days spent in the sun watching the grapes grow and ripen.
At dinner, Hermione and Severus chatted amiably and Ron, per usual, was mostly quiet until finally he looked up sheepishly and said, "What should I do about this sunburn?" His face was bright red – a red unlike the orangey hue of his ginger hair. This red was fierce and would peel something awful.
"Why didn't you do a sun protection charm?" asked Hermione.
"I'm English! What do I know about the sun?" he said, scratching his nose and then hissing at the pain.
"Professor Flitwick taught us in our first year…" but she trailed off catching her faux pas. Professor Flitwick was dead now and they tried not to talk about the war for now, while there was still healing. "They are easy." she said, "You two are just the same in some ways." Severus coughed a little, choking on a bite of asparagus, and Ron looked a little disgusted. Hermione pushed back from the table and went to fetch the aloe plant she'd retrieved for Severus so long ago. He looked at it unconvinced.
"Isn't there a charm or a potion or something?" he asked.
"Yes, but then how will you learn?" she said, sitting back down and resuming her dinner. Severus felt an unexpected empathy for the Weasley boy and tried to cover it by shoving his mouth full of food. "Severus, I was thinking that perhaps Ron could go into town with you tomorrow while I meet with the wedding coordinator." Both men groaned but did not protest. She smiled.
Hermione always rose unbearably early while Severus would have liked to spend the better morning hours in bed making love to her. But he usually stumbled into wakefulness hours after she'd gone leaving nothing but rumpled sheets and a few strands of hair behind her. This morning the heat woke him. He'd kicked off all of the covers and had already worked up a fine sheen of sweat. He rolled out of bed and looked at the clock – past ten. The wedding coordinator had been due at 9:00 and so Severus had no doubt that she'd come and now he and the future Mrs. Snape were out somewhere spending half his fortune on flowers and shoes.
He took a shower, a little on the cold side which felt nice, and considered, briefly, wearing shorts. But one look at his pale knobby knees and the thought of the look on Weasley's face if he showed any more skin then necessary made him cast a cooling charm on his black, linen slacks and dark green, long sleeved shirt. It wouldn't last very long, probably, but long enough. After this enforced play date with Weasley, all he planned to do was float around his pool and ponder life while Weasley crawled back into bed, miserable. Happy with the day's projection, he went to the kitchen to have a bit of toast and maybe an egg.
Ron was waiting for him in the kitchen, miserably pushing some porridge around in his bowl. Severus had hoped he'd not be out of bed yet but the boy was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and some beat up trainers. How classy. They looked at each other but said nothing. A short, burly elf brought breakfast to Severus and he ate it quickly and efficiently. He had a second cup of tea while he read over the Daily Prophet and finally looked up at Ron.
"When you finish your porridge, we'll go." he said, leaning back in his chair.
"Why do you care if I rot away?" he asked, every surly without Potter there to supply confidence.
"I care about what Hermione cares about." he said. "Now eat your bloody porridge and let's get on with it." The porridge in question was now cold and sticky and Severus watched Ron shove as much as it on to his spoon as he could – which was a lot – and shove the entire thing into his mouth. After three goes of this, the bowl was all but empty. If this had happened in the Great Hall not so many years ago, Snape would have been disgusted and perhaps assigned a detention with Filch but here he found it almost comical. He found a lot of things to be less dire these days.
"Done." Ron said. "Where to?"
"The muggle village." Snape said. "The bakery is better there." Ron shrugged and followed him out of the house and to a shed that was on the far side of the pool behind a green fence. "I bought these a few years ago when I found myself going to the muggle village more and more." he explained, opening the door to the shed with his wand. "It was too far to walk and too risky to apparate." Inside the shed were two silver vespas with helmets.
"Wicked," Ron said. "Are then enchanted like my dad's car?" he asked.
"No," Snape said drying, handing him a helmet. "They run on gasoline. I don't pretend to understand it but they make the trek to town much more enjoyable." After a quick lesson, they set off down the dirt road in the harsh sun, both having remembered their sun protection charm.
In London, the wedding coordinator had departed with another appointment scheduled for two weeks. She'd been undeniably good at her job but she was like if Professor McGonagall and Rita Skeeter had somehow produced an offspring. She was ridiculous and severe all at once. It was unsettling. Now she was in Muggle London to look at wedding dresses though the coordinator had informed her that if they were going to have a wedding that leaned towards the wizard traditions, a Muggle wedding dress would look far too formal and the white would be an unusual color choice. Hermione couldn't quite let go of the dream of the perfect wedding she'd had since she was a little girl, even if the groom was somewhat different than she'd expected. Perhaps if she found a dress that was understated enough. No beads or excess ribbon or fabric – simple and strapless. She could be happy with that.
She tried several dresses on and asked the store clerk to snap a few pictures with the camera so she could see them later. The shop girl, a muggle, happily obliged not knowing it was a wizarding camera and insisted she take several shots of each dress from different angles, even though in the picture, the Hermione would twirl accordingly no matter what the angle. Hermione couldn't really explain that, though, and so she just smiled and held her tongue.
In Diagon Alley, she decided to look in the bridal shop there. The gowns were very old fashioned, loose fitting robes. Not meant to be binding because one was supposed to be connected to nature – the ceremony was performed barefoot. The robes were lilac, periwinkle, there was an atrocious yellow one. She nearly bumped into Pansy Parkinson while reaching for the only white robe the store had.
"Granger?" Pansy asked, looking more than a little surprised.
"Hello, Pansy." Hermione replied but was suspicious. Why was she here? Draco and his lot were mostly all in Azkaban and the older generation of death eaters, Snape's generation, were for the most part dead, in hiding, or in prison as well. Hermione noticed her green apron and name tag. "You work here?"
"Yes," Pansy said though she looked loathe to admit it. "I'm an upstanding citizen, you know."
"I see." Hermione said, but she didn't.
"Not all of us Slytherins wanted you-know-who to win." she said, "It looks good if I live a clean life and have an honest job. I didn't do anything wrong but I doubt it would take much for me to land the cell next to Draco. I heard he cut you in two."
"Tried to." Hermione said. She still didn't trust Pansy. Pansy shrugged as if to say she didn't care for Hermione's trust anyhow.
"What are you doing here?" Pansy asked, moving the subject away from themes so touchy.
"I'm getting married." Hermione said, surprised she'd not heard. Lucius had assured them, what seemed like ages ago, that everyone would know about their affair.
"Congratulations." Pansy said. "The world will never be short of Weasleys." Hermione was confused for a moment. What did the Weasleys have to do with anything?
"You think I'm marrying Ron?" She asked, laughing. "No, no, Pansy, you really ARE out of the Slytherin inner circle. And here I thought you were their queen. I'm marrying Severus Snape."
"Professor Snape?" She asked, her eyes wide. "You?"
"Me. I'll be sure to invite you to the wedding now that I know you won't try to kill me during." she said. "I've got to run. We'll have tea sometime." And with that, Hermione left – a speechless Slytherin in her wake.