Chapter Seven

"You were gone longer than normal," Viktor knowingly commented, falling back onto her unmade bed as she sat in the armchair slipping on her nude heels. Reaching into the pocket of his running shorts, he pulled out a heavy stock linen card and floated it back over to the table that showcased her flowers. "Good thing Luna had the foresight to swipe this from your table last night before Theo got here."

Picking up the card, Hermione ran her fingers over the shimmering gold ink Marcus had written with and smiled. His penmanship was nearly impeccable - the only flaw being the tale tell smudging that happened from dragging the left side of his hand over the words as he wrote - and each row of words were written in straight, evenly spaced lines. Silently rereading his words, her smile grew even more as she placed the card in front of the crystal vase the flowers had been delivered in.

Though he hadn't addressed the symbolic meaning of each flower, she had known the moment she saw them that it wasn't a standard arrangement from a florist. Each flower, color, and quantity seemed to have been selected with a discerning hand, whispering a second message beyond that of what he wrote. Viktor's assessing gaze and gruff question of, "Flint?" Before giving a single nod of approval had been all the confirmation she had needed. She had intended to hunt down a book on the language of flowers but Theo had beaten her to it, lulling her mind away from the past with his abundant knowledge.

Taking the stem of one of the white camellias in her hand, she pulled it up from the bunch and inhaled its scent before carefully tucking it back into place. "He ticked off every single meaning that could be interpreted from each stem last night and what he believed to be the overall message when combined."

Rolling onto his side, Viktor bent his elbow and propped his head in his hand and guessed, "You want confirmation of what he said and to know he wasn't teasing you."

Nodding her head, she stood up and smoothed the pleats of her pink, floral patterned skirt. Crossing the room to the jewelry box that sat on her dresser, she elongated her spine with each step until her shoulders were dropped and rolled back. Picking through the sections she pulled out a diamond stud and a pearl one, holding them up in question.

"I got you those," he said, pointing to the pearls.

Putting the diamond stud back, she fastened the one earring, then the next before pulling out the matching bracelet and draping it over her wrist. Snapping it into place she said, "You were a good first boyfriend, Viktor. Thank you, you really showed me the caliber of wizard I should aspire to find."

"I take great offense to that."

"Why?" She laughed.

"Because you're with Weasley. If I was so wonderful you would have dropped that chuval s laĭna long before now. As it were, you are still with him moeto glupavo momiche ."

"I am not stupid," she huffed, stomping her foot.

"Then what do you call that?" He demanded, pointing to the flowers as he sat up on the bed, his Bulgarian temper flaring. "You forget malko sŭkrovishte , I have seen your Ronald with my own two eyes and what I haven't been around to witness, Luna has told me about. That boy," he spat, "Never was and never will be worthy of you. He's lucky I wasn't here when he took up with that… that…" snapping his fingers as his English failed him, he looked at her and said, " Ulichnitsa, grozna kurva. Znaesh, da? "

"Slag," she answered, wondering if she'd ever get to see him go off on one of his half English, half Bulgarian rants to Luna.

"Da! That slag; he's lucky I wasn't here when that happened. Otherwise he would have seen just how dark the magic they teach us at Durmstrang can be. Flint though… Now he's a worthy wizard. Just look at what he sent."

"Viktor please, let's not," she said in exasperation, leaning against the dresser as she turned to face him.

"No Hermione, we are doing this right now. You are my dearest and oldest friend. I love you and want to see you happy. And you moeto momiche, are not happy. You deserve so much more than that ginger wanker and I don't understand why you stay. Help me understand because I do not get it. I have never gotten it. And now you have this man who is using the old ways of courting and still you stay.

"He tells you with coral roses that he desires you; the red irises represent his passionate and romantic interest in you. Those red tulips are a bold, not to be misinterpreted declaration of his intention to date you exclusively. The blush colored roses means he will wait patiently while you decide if you return his affection and the white camellias mean he waits for you and only you. That no other is in his life or has his interest. That you are his sole focus. And the pink roses, they speak volumes about how he respects you and finds you intelligent and beautiful. That he thinks you are perfection and hopes you find him worthy.

"So why, Hermione? Why are you with Ronald? Youthful flights fancies I could have believed back then, but now… Now I just don't get it. You don't even tell him your full history. What kind of relationship is that if you even fear telling him we were intimate in what is basically another life? Especially when you know he was getting around before, during, and after his time you. Even before you were not like that with him, finding every excuse to not have sex with him. Not that I blame you. I've been told I'm a hard act to follow," he teased with false arrogance, making her shove him as they laughed and she sat down beside him, resting her head on his bare shoulder. "Flint though, you look as though he's the first sign of food and water you've seen in ages."

"I do not," she protested. Seeing his raised eyebrow, she admitted, "Okay fine, maybe I do. But Merlin Viktor, I just can't help it. Marcus is so thoughtful and things are just so easy with him and he's so charming and flirtatious. Not to mention he's beautiful, gorgeous, like easily the most fit man I have ever seen. He has plans and ambitions beyond his time playing quidditch. And he reads! Did I tell you he reads? Not just because he has to but because he enjoys it. And he's founded this charity to help educate the Wizarding World on learning disabilities. They help test not only children but adults and help them learn coping techniques. They're even bridging the gap for muggleborns who need those resources in Hogwarts. He's not intimidated by me and he actually listens when I talk and asks me questions. He's just so… wonderful.

"This may be weird to say but it's like being with you but so much-"

"More," he finished. "That's Luna. I was always your friend but I would be lying if I said I hadn't held onto hope over the years that I would get to be your lover as an adult. Then there was her…" he drifted off, his stoic and beseeching face softening into a serene smile. "It was like something just clicked in me and it all of a sudden it made sense why you and I didn't work despite being so close."

Tracing the magically tattooed bunny that leapt up his back, leaving a trail of blooming wildflowers in its wake, she quietly confessed, "I've stayed because if I don't, we can never be friends again. Unlike you and I, when I break things off with him that's it. There's no chance of friendship or even cordial passings in Diagon Alley or at mutual events. He'll become one more thing that the war has taken from me and I've been unwilling to allow it to steal anything else.

"It took my parents and our families, our friends, our entire childhood. It even took pieces of ourselves that we can never get back. I think I've paid more than enough given how tainted and corrupt it made everything. Every memory has a lingering shadow of Voldemort and what he stole from us. Ron was the only thing that I got to hold on to when the dust settled."

Looking at the photo of her parents on their wedding day, she felt guilt wash over her as she whispered, "I was supposed to be able to keep them. They were to go to Australia, be safe and happy, and when we won I was going to find them and bring them home. They were supposed to be what I got to keep. The one thing that the war didn't take from me. I should be grateful that they're alive and happy there. That they didn't perish in some freak accident or worse, had been found but they're my parents. They're mine!" She shouted, startling herself when her old, irrational anger sprung forth. "I'm their daughter, not her!

"It was only fifteen months and four days from the day I obliviated them to when I found them. I was ready, I had all the spells and potions; Healer Asclepius even sent the head of Janius Thickey to assist me should I need it. But then we got there and saw my parents pushing a pram and there she was; my little sister, Hermione, taking not just my parents but my name too. I've been holding on to Ron and trying to make something work that's broken ever since. I know it's wrong and that I should have let it go long before now, but you wanted to understand. I just couldn't bear anything else changing in my life as a result of the war."

Patting his knee and kissing his cheek, Hermione stood up from the bed and smoothed a hand over her tamed curls. Taking a deep breath to release the last of her emotions from herself, she turned to face Viktor - who thankfully had never tried to give her false words of encouragement or platitudes about how things would work out for the best - and smiled as genuinely as she could, "Now, how do I look? I have a very special man waiting for me to arrive and shower him in love and presents at the Dainty Saucer."

"Nearly perfect. You just need…" Viktor rumbled, standing up from the bed and helping himself to her jewelry box. A short sound of triumph sounded and then she felt the cool press of pearls against her decolletage. Sweeping her hair over her shoulder so he could fasten the clasp, he said, "Now you're perfect and sure to be the favorite godparent to little Potter."

Running her hand over the chunky, pearl statement necklace while looking in the mirror, she commented, "And here I thought it would be too much."

Squeezing her shoulders, he kissed the crown of her head and said, "Don't spend too much time picking apart and analyzing the details, malko sŭkrovishte. Your gut and your heart have yet to be wrong. Follow them and not your head because not even Hermione Granger can reason things like emotions."

"Love you."

"Love you too, moeto momiche. Now get going so you can head off Theo before he tells Draco, Pansy, and Narcissa about Flint and how that bouquet also has white English Primrose in it, representing a promise of lasting sexual pleasure."

Hermione's eyes went wide with horror at the truth of his words as she swore, "Oh fuck," and summoned her wand and clutch to her hand. Breaking off into a teetering run, Viktor's booming laugh followed her down the stairs. Throwing powder into the living room's hearth, she levitated the abundance of presents she had purchased in a bid to outdo Draco and stuffed them and herself into the green flames calling out for the Leaky Cauldron.

The flames of the floo hadn't even died out before she was racing through the pub, nearly knocking a patron over as she siphoned the soot from her clothes in her haste to make it onto the wizarding high street. Leaping between cobblestone pavers to preserve the thin patent leather heels of her shoes and prevent the old streets from scoffing up their red bottoms, she considered taking them off so that she could sprint for the tea shop. Seeing George give last minute instructions to Lee as he walked out of his shop, she waved like a mad woman, calling out his name.

"George!"

"Oi Hermione, what's got you in a tizzy?"

"Theo!" She shouted as an explanation.

It was all he needed though, because he was clapping Lee on the shoulder and breaking out into a run to get to the shop that was still a block away.

"Granger, what have you been up to that's making Nott's tongue wag?" Lee suggestively teased. "Naughty, naughty witch. Are you sampling the quidditch supply over there in Falmouth?"

"Lee Jordan, don't you let anyone hear you say that," she scolded as she scurried past. "If I'm on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow, I'm coming for you. It'd be a shame if I had to widow your new bride"

From behind him, Angelina Jordan, née Johnson, popped her head out of the shop's door and called, "Wouldn't blame you if you did; those boys are fit !"

Bloody gossips, the lot of us, Hermione thought, contemplating apperating from the middle of the street, even if it was poor form to do so. Surely Narcissa wouldn't give her that look given the circumstances. Who am I kidding? She's going to be hanging on Theo's every word if George doesn't get there and shut his trap.

Finally reaching the Dainty Saucer, she panted, "Thank Merlin," as she pushed through and continued past the hostess desk. Her heels made a threatening echo throughout the main room that would have had even Professor Snape taking envious notes as she charged for the private room they had reserved for the celebration brunch. Bursting through the doors, she groaned as she took in her friends amassed around Theo who was exaggerating the size of the bouquet Marcus had sent her, if only just.

Seeing George wrap himself around his girlfriend from behind and listening with rapt attention, she whined, "You were supposed to stop him," stomping her foot as she pouted and sent the baby's presents to the gift table.

"I was going to but he had already started and Cissa really wanted to hear. You know I'm weak for those stormy eyes. Besides, what made you think I wouldn't want to know about this so I could take the mickey out of you for it later? I mean I'm all for you dumping my thickheaded brother, but for Slytherin's troll? Really? Surely they have other wizards if you're wanting to jump on the snake train with the rest of us."

His laughter was cut off by a sharp yelp as he was simultaneously slapped by her and Narcissa with Pansy swatting at Harry who thought his cup would hide his own laughter.

"You two can laugh all you want but there is no denying it, Marcus Flint is damn sexy . He may be a late bloomer, but whoo," Pansy said, fanning herself. "Nature can take all the time she needs when she produces something like that. If I wasn't closing in on the third trimester and had lost sight of my fanny Merlin only knows how long ago, I would climb that man like a tree."

"Thanks, Pans," Harry deadpanned, making Hermione laugh.

"And of course if I wasn't married to you," she cooed, cupping his cheeks and kissing his grumbling mouth.

"They're just flowers," she responded, trying to deflect the attention away from her.

Every pureblood in the room, including George, Neville, and Luna, looked at her like they couldn't believe how thick she was being. Glancing to Harry for help, he shrugged his shoulders just as clueless as she was, while Dean and Seamus both raised their empty hands, not understanding the fuss either.

"Anyone here care to enlighten us plebs?" Dean asked the room.

Extracting George's arms from around her, Narcissa pointed to one of the tables covered with a palm printed cloth, directing her to sit in the wicker chair. Joining her at the table that had muggle and magical animal figurines playing and hiding amongst the floral arrangement, Pansy, Luna, Daphne, and Millie fanned out around her. With the boys at the backs of their chairs, Narcissa stood before them ready to hold her impromptu lecture.

"This is one of the many reasons I've arranged a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall about instituting a compulsory wizarding customs class at Hogwarts. There's so much that those raised in the Muggle World don't know and wouldn't even realize they need to know. Helping to transition the muggleborns when they get their letters is only the beginning of my plans for better integration but things like courting culture don't need to be taught to eleven year olds learning about our world for the first time. However I've digressed," she said, dismissing her soapbox before she fully stepped onto it.

For lack of a title to call it in the Wizarding World, Narcissa had created and spearheaded the campaign to have a finishing school of sorts for the incoming muggleborns and muggle-raised students each year. She and Pansy ran the program as well as one tailor made for adult wizards and witches. They also offered a whole host of public relations services which was how the former Lady Malfoy, once again Miss Black, and George had found themselves in the same circles.

Thanks once again to that Witch Weekly spread, she had gone over interview and deflection techniques with him and his older brothers - Ron and Ginny having none too kindly forgone hers and Pansy's offered services. One thing had led to another and the two had embarked on a casual, very sexual relationship. Then before the ink had even been given a chance to dry on her divorce papers, George had seized his moment with the witch he had fallen in love with during their time together and had asked her on a proper date. By the end of their second date only days later, he had moved in with her and the two had been nearly inseparable ever since. However at Narcissa's insistence, their relationship remained private to those outside of the friends that were currently gathered in the private room. The witch wanted to spare George the vitriol they all knew Molly would spew if she were privy to the details of his private life. She also had a not so secret insecurity about their age difference with him being only two years older than her son.

"Even our antiquated society has allowed many courting customs and rituals to fall out of practice in favor of more modern approaches to dating. Some things we still hold on to though. Mostly they're just symbolic remembrances of the old ways but others - like sending secondary messages through the language of flowers - are still utilized. We teach our children a plethora of horticulture and all the symbolic meanings associated with each plant and how that message changes when combined with other plants or when particular quantities are given. It is a practice that is often still in use amongst-"

"Wizards who are courting witches that are involved with another wizard," George answered, winking at Narcissa, making her blush despite her look of him being a nuisance. "After receiving the bouquet and its hidden meaning, a witch can separate the arrangement - something I recommend you doing in case my brother drops in on you unannounced again before you can toss him over - and scatter them throughout her rooms or home as decorative pieces. You can make your intentions, whatever they may be, known with none the wiser. And all joking aside about the overtly sexual undertones that accompanied his selected arrangement, Flint has serious romantic intentions towards you. You don't send red tulips and irises to just any witch." The usual easy going manner that was a trademark of George and his late twin Fred, evaporated from his face as he pinned Narcissa with a serious stare and said, "A wizard reserves those blooms for the witch he plans to spend the rest of his life with. They represent a deep, not fragile kind of romantic love and passion. That she's someone who is worth more than everything else in their life by ten."

Clearing her throat, Narcissa finished, "That's why we're all waiting on bated breath for when you dump that…"

"Stupid, self-centered, arsehole?" Harry easily supplied.

"And that right there is why even if I could find my fanny, I would always come home for your buffet, my love," Pansy said with sweet emotion pouring forth despite her crass words. "You Gryffindors always say and do exactly as you want. You don't have time for games and see no problem in openly expressing yourself. I find it very sexy."

"Pans it's bad enough I have to watch the one-eared weasel paw at my mum, so put your, 'Potter, fuck me,' eyes away. You're already up the duff," Draco ordered in disgust.

"I have a question no one has asked," Luna announced airily. "Hermione, did you send a response?"

"Of course. I sent a thank you note and thanked him again in person the following day at the start of our session."

Theo, who sat at a nearby table with Draco, dropped his head back and began laughing in an uncontrollable guffaw. Daphne and Millie also teetered with laughter that they tried to not let escape, making her huff in exasperation.

"For the love of Godric and Jesus, what now?"

"Granger, you're supposed to send flowers back," Theo wheezed.

"Well how the bloody hell was I supposed to know that?" She demanded in a near whine, worried that she now seemed like uncouth swine to him.

Swatting Theo and her son as they wiped tears of mirth from their eyes, Narcissa soothed, "It's okay Hermione, I'm sure Marcus was fully aware that he may not receive an equal response from you when he sent the flowers. However Luna dear, you raise an excellent point. What is your response, love?"

Picking at the lacquer of her fresh manicure, making Daphne and Millie snatch her hands to prevent her fidgeting, Hermione pondered exactly what she wanted her response to be. Pursing and curling her lips repeatedly she finally answered almost too soft for them to hear.

"I want something that says his interest is reciprocated and welcomed but that I also need time. Are there even flowers for that?"

Snorting George responded, "Hermione there is a flower or flowers for everything from saying, 'I wish to fuck you into the mattress all night long,' to 'Don't worry the job will get done; their death is immanent.'"

"No there isn't!" Seamus shouted in disbelief.

"No he's right," Draco answered. "Mum sent flowers to Azkaban telling dad she had paid someone on the inside to kill him. Montague said it was hilarious to watch him get all squirrely about every person that came near him until the divorce summons arrived. I'm pretty sure that's how she got such a big settlement. He hoped she'd call off her supposed assassin."

Smiling slyly as she sipped her tea, Narcissa remained silent and gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders.

"So, we good? All caught up on the gossip?" George asked. "Because Dean's been helping me practice my muggle nappy changing skills so I can dominate at the games today. After all, gotta start practicing for when Cissa and I give Draco a little ginger headed brother or sister."

"Don't you fucking dare, Weasley!" Draco shouted, pointing an accusatory finger as he shot up from the table.

"Now, now Drakey we've talked about this, it's Papa," George said in a baby voice making them all laugh.

"We put together one hell of a family," Harry committed by her ear as the two continued to antagonize each other while Narcissa ignored them both carrying on a conversation with Pansy.

"I wouldn't trade em for all the gold in Gringotts though," she responded fondly.

"Oi, who wants to take bets on how long before Hermione is taking Falmouth's head chaser for a broom ride?" Seamus called out, grabbing Draco and George's attention as they raced Theo to be first in the beating line.

"And just like that, I regret my words."

"I mean while we're on the subject, how long do you think it'll be? As your oldest friend I should get some insider knowledge," Harry laughed.

"Don't make me also regret helping keep you alive all these years, Harry James Potter," she teasingly scolded.

"I'm pretty sure you've been regretting that since shortly after the troll."

"Only a little," she falsely admitted, shoving him towards the rowdy group of boys.

As he walked away, Pansy praised, "Oh thank Merlin, he's gone." Leaning into Hermione, she excitedly asked, "So be honest, how often do you get Marcus shirtless and run your hands all over him?"

Unable to help herself she responded honestly with, "Every session ends with a deep tissue massage of the muscles we work out and he feels even better than he looks," making the girls squeal as she blushed, before they descended into a particularly dirty round of girl talk about the wizards in their lives.

AN:

Bulgarian phrases:

- chuval s laĭna - bag of shit moeto glupavo momiche - my stupid girl
- malko sŭkrovishte - little treasure
- Ulichnitsa, grozna kurva. Znaesh, da? - Slut, ugly whore. You know, yes?
- moeto momiche - my girl