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It had been a lovely Saturday, and Hermione didn't want to ruin it by going back to her awful London flat. She loved her flat, really, but it was nothing compared to the grandiose of Severus's beach home, and the fact that she had gone a whole day without coughing up a single petal.

Which of course, was prompt karma when she apparated back to her flat and proceeded to cough up a petal, then another one an hour later. The process would never grow anymore usual.

The bloody flowers were going to eat her alive, if the guilt of whatever it was between her and Severus coming to light didn't do it first.

So what? She found him attractive, and maybe one-too-many times his eyes landed on her skin under the bathing suit. She needed to get a grip, not just on the counter she'd thrown her things on. Just because she could live life a little more recklessly now did not mean she could break hearts!

Two years wasn't enough for her to let anyone get attached, unless it was Ron because then it wouldn't be two years.

Harry was going to come over tomorrow, Hermione's need for company paramount to anything else. She had invited Ron, too out of sheer nicety, but Harry said he was busy for some reason or another.

The rest of the evening as she laid in bed with a book that barely caught her attention, the covers up to her chin, Hermione thought about what it might be like to be with someone like Severus Snape after having been with only one other person for the past several years. There would be an interesting dichotomy of her fame and his reclusive behavior, that's for certain.

Well, technically there would be nothing, couldn't be anything, if she wanted to keep hold of her sanity as time withered on by.

Hermione spent the evening wishing death might come sooner rather than later.

When Harry showed up the next day, he looked vibrant.

It made Hermione realize that she wanted to be happy for her friends while she could, to be there for them while she still had the chance. Leaving them would not be easy, but she wouldn't leave them without the solid memory that she loved them all to the greater capacity of the word. And it was in that same moment that she realized she couldn't live a life without love, and filed away a mental note to send Luna her own death assignment because she refused to lose her ability to love.

They were seated in the living room, opposing comfortable chairs and tea cups in hand. Though, Harry's wobbled a bit.

"You seem like two months just isn't soon enough."

Harry chuckled, "Seven weeks now."

Hermione shook her head, attempting to hide the teasing grin.

"I'm so happy for you both. Have you settled everything yet?"

"Yes, if we hadn't we wouldn't be having a wedding."

That was an extremely valid point, as it was hard to do anything last minute in the wizarding world let alone plan such a large (yet small) event as this.

"Well, you're lucky you got everything you wanted."

He gave a devilish smirk he must have inherited from his fiance.

"The name will be Harry Potter," he added in the most amiable voice he could muster, his hand to his ear in the shape of a muggle telephone.

"Prat," she mumbled, but he heard her, face turning sour.

"Will you be attending with anyone?" He asked, putting his tea down and shifting in his chair, posture abominable as usual.

"Harry Potter, absolutely not, please don't do that."

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