"Well?"

Harry Potter stood in the center of a large, ornate room. The Honeymoon Suite at the Le Carle. Hands on hips, eyes narrowed, and chin defiantly aimed skyward he examined his new bride suspiciously as she sat in her dressing gown pulling flowers from her stiff, wooden-looking hair.

"Well what?" she asked absently, pulling a branch of particularly ornery baby's breath from her coiffure.

"Who are they from, Hermione?" Harry hissed.

Hermione dropped the lock of hair and turned to face him now, genuine confusion causing small frown lines to appear on her brow. "What on earth are you talking about, Harry?" she snapped briskly.

"Who. Gave. You. The. Jewelry?"

"Oh. That." Hermione answered flippantly. She returned her gaze to the vanity mirror, and took up the lock of hair again.

"Hermione Jane Granger who gave you the bloody diamonds and why?" Harry hissed, growing redder in the face by the minute.

"That Hermione Jane Granger Potter, sir, as you'd do well to remember" Hermione bit out scathingly, "They were a Christmas gift, and the necklace was a wedding gift, not that it is any concern of yours!"

"What kind of a wedding gift is that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry, did you want to wear it?" Hermione asked mock-sweetly.

"Hermione, who gave them to you?"

"Why?"

"Because a man ought to know who is giving his bloody wife jewelry on their wedding day!"

"Why Harry? Because you didn't?"

"And?"

"YOU FORGOT THE BLOODY RING HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Hermione roared, spinning around and standing to face him, arms stiff and hands clenched.

"GINNY HAD IT!" Harry screamed in reply, "It's not like I lost the bloody thing!"

"Oh, right. Ginny had it. I'm sure she was taking excellent care of it, wasn't she Harry? Why, I'll bet she even wore it. You know, for SAFE KEEPING!"

"I…well…not relevant…what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well what it means!"

"That's it! I'm leaving!" Harry grabbed his cloak and stormed toward the door, "I don't have to take this!"

"Get used to it, Harry, I'm your wife you DO have to take it!"

SLAM!

Hermione slumped back into her seat at the vanity. Wonderful. This is exactly how she'd pictured her wedding night.

I'll bet I know where he's going… she thought viciously.

Hermione,

I'm so sorry for the way I acted last night. It was uncalled for. Your things are your business and I had no right to dig. I'm sorry I ruined our Honeymoon, Hermione. I hope you can forgive me.

Harry

A. Pink. Bloody. Rose.

Blech!

Hermione threw the rose in the bin and wiped up a few stray leaves and petals, then held the parchment before her and slowly and deliberately burning it with the tip of her ignited wand. Bloody prick. That letter had Ginny Weasley's dictation written all over it. Hermione rolled her eyes. Some people are just painfully transparent.

Hermione plodded barefoot through the kitchen of her small flat, walking around taped up cardboard boxes. She had yet to move her things into Harry's much larger, much more extravagant home. Somehow, the thought of moving in to Godric's Hollow now seemed even more tiresome to her.

What kind of a man walks out on his wedding night?

What kind of a wife is relieved when he does?

Hermione sighed heavily and made her way to the bathroom to shower and dress, before heading out the door and Apparating . She reappeared in front of a teetering building with too many stories and chickens in the yard, and for the first time she could remember upon doing so, instead of a feeling of peace, foreboding filled her.

"Hermione, dear, do come in." Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the open front door and waved Hermione inside, proceeding into the miss-matched kitchen, where a flash of red hair was seen running upstairs.

"Ginny." Harry said absently, "You know how she is about company seeing her first thing in the morning." This earned him a glare, as he clearly was no longer considered 'company' in the youngest Weasley's eyes. Harry shrunk slightly before raising up and beaming brightly.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you've come. Shall we stop by your flat to gather your things before we head home?" Harry asked jovially, clearly forgetting that he was the one being forgiven and not the other way around.

Hermione slumped into a seat across from him as Mrs. Weasley piled sausages on top of a high-stacked plate of pancakes and shoved it in front of her, muttering about what a shame it all was.

"I suppose." she answered softly, piling in the food and ignoring Harry's rather cheery mood.