The Italian

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I receive no monetary compensation for this work. Susanna Fiore is my creation.

Chapter 1

The Burrow kitchen burst into chaos upon Fleur and Bill's announcement.

"Fleur, dear, that's wonderful news! I'll get started knitting booties straight away. Merlin knows you'll need them!" Mrs. Weasley was the first to chip in.

Mr. Weasley smacked Bill on the back and laughed heartily. "Well done, son. You'll both make cracking parents!"

Ginny stood and gave Fleur a delicate hug. Upon conclusion of the war, the two had somewhat thawed to each other and were in the beginnings of what may almost be called sisterhood. "When are you due, Phlem?" she asked affectionately.

Fleur sighed and smiled, squeezing Ginny's hands and looking past her to her husband, light sparkling in her eyes. "Fall. September, most likely. We think it may be close to 'Ermione's birthday." Fleur turned her dazzling smile upon her sister-in-law.

Hermione shook off her melancholy momentarily and stood herself, to join Ginny at Fleur's side. She bestowed a friendly kiss on Fleur's perfect cheek, gave her arm a squeeze and said "Congratulations, darling. You are positively glowing." She then left the room with a surreptitious glance at Ron and a hurried excuse about the loo.

Ron stood, cleared his throat and pointed in the direction Hermione had just escaped. "I had better…" The table nodded collectively and let him go. Before he was out of sight, though, he turned to Bill and Fleur. "I'm so happy for you both. I can't wait to meet the little blighter," and with a wink he was gone.

Fleur looked stricken. "Is she upset? Did I say somezing wrong?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing you did, Phlem. She and Ron have been having a rough go of it. It may only be she wishes she was where you are and doesn't want to resent you for it. You know Hermione. She meant what she said. She's terribly happy for you, only conflicted."

Fleur nodded.

"So, sis," George chimed in, breaking the tension. "Will you let me name Baby Weasley."

Fleur rolled her eyes and bantered back. "You may not. If you had your way my bebe would be named for some burly Quidditch player, non?"

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Hermione made it up to Ginny's room, where she had spent so many childhood nights, before Ron caught up with her.

"Oi, Hermione, what's the big idea, just running off like that? Fleur thinks you're angry with her."

Hermione sniffed and looked out the window into the starry night. "I'm sorry, Ron. I just didn't want to be a buzzkill. We can't tell them now. Not after this. It would ruin the entire night."

Ron crossed the room and stood next to her, not touching her, but softened his voice. "Maybe you're right, love, but we can't put it off much longer. Ginny's already figured it out and as perceptive as Fleur is, she won't be far behind. They know you far too well. I can hide it from Mum and Dad well enough, but Harry and George are starting to wonder as well."

Hermione turned to Ron, hope shining in her eyes alongside her unshed tears. "Can't we try again, Ron? Surely we can work it out. I'll try harder, I'll go to counseling, maybe there's a potion I can take. I refuse to believe this is the end of us."

Now, Ron did reach for her, holding her by both shoulders. "We have tried, love, for far longer than we probably should have. It's nothing to do with effort, Hermione. We've both tried, Merlin knows. But I am not what you want, and we can't keep pretending that will ever change."

Hermione's tears spilled over. "Ron, I've never failed at anything."

Ron pulled her into a hug and spoke into the wisps of her hair brushing his face. "This isn't failure, Hermione. It's just accepting the truth. Moving on will give us both the chance to be happy."

Hermione nodded, squared her shoulders and made up her mind.

"Come on, Ronald. Am I a Gryffindor or not. It's now or never."

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They arrived back in the Burrow kitchen to Ginny and George bandying baby names back and forth.

"Bernard" suggested George and Fleur wrinkled her nose

"Lilac" countered Ginny, "y'know, like a play on Fleur?"

Fleur furrowed her brow.

"Oscar"

"Gertrude"

"Killian"

"Oresteia"

"I like Victor." The voice came from the doorway and all heads turned to Hermione, Ron's supportive hand firmly on her shoulder.

Fleur stood and crossed to Hermione. "Are you all right, mon amie?"

Hermione smiled and nodded through fresh tears. "Oui, Fleur, I'm fine." She turned her attention to the room at large. "I do have something I need to tell you all, however," she hedged. "I didn't think it appropriate after Fleur and Bill's good news, but Ron convinced me it was important enough."

She took a deep breath and felt Ron's strong hand squeeze her shoulder. "Ronald and I are splitting up."

The room gasped collectively, save for Ginny and Harry.

"We'd rather not make a fuss about it. We'll remain friends." She squeezed the hand at her shoulder. "That will never change. I have just recently admitted to him that we are, in the end… rather incompatible."

Mrs. Weasley couldn't resist dropping her two knuts. "Well, surely, if you two just gave it a bit more time."

"Mum" Ron attempted to stop her, but quieted at another squeeze of his hand.

"It's alright, Ron. We have tried, Molly, for far longer than any of you know. But after all…" she steeled herself for the pending explosion. "When one is not attracted to wizards, one should probably refrain from attempting to date them." Her eyes closed and she waited for fallout that never came.

"Well is that all, dear? Why on earth didn't you just say so?"

Hermione's eyes flew open as her eyes filled with tears.

"You aren't angry?"

Mrs. Weasley simply enveloped Hermione in one of her warmest hugs and moved the evening on. "Come, dear, have some tea. It will set your mind at ease. Now, why Victor?"

Hermione accepted her seat at the table, flanked by Ron on one side and Fleur on the other. She searched for and found Ron's hand beneath the table and met his shining eyes. She mouthed a silent 'Thank You' and just as she registered his silent nod, a warm breath caressed her ear from the other side, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

"You know 'Ermione, I have many soeurs from Beuxbatons who would jump at ze chance with 'Ze Brightest Witch of 'er Age, non?" Fleur's sensual whisper held a hopeful promise.

Hermione whipped her head around and caught Fleur's gaze, full of mischief, causing Hermione to stumble over her response. "Um. Thank you, Fleur, but, I, ah, think maybe I should just… be single for a bit, you know? Before meeting a bunch of strange witches right off."

Fleur smiled. "Hm. As you wish, mon amie, but I do not give up so easily, oui?"

Hermione giggled. "Je sais, Fleur. I know all too well."

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One year later

"Hurry Hermione! I don't want to miss mum's Shepherd's Pie!"

"Bloody hell, Ronald, do you ever think about anything besides your stomach? Susanna can't keep up in her heels. Run, if you must, we'll catch you up!" Ron was off, to announce their impending arrival at the Burrow.

"Vieni cara, Ci siamo quasi. We're almost there, love." Hermione held tight to her girlfriend's hand. She needed to make sure they made it to the Burrow in one piece. She was more nervous tonight than when she introduced Susanna to her parents.

"Hermionee, dove si trova il sentiero del giardino!" Susanna grumbled as her stilettos sank into the damp spring ground, sounding much like the diva she was famous for being.

"It's not really that sort of garden, cara, and the little path they did have was ruined by gnomes last week. Molly just hasn't had a chance to repair it yet."

"Well, I sink she should have it repaired for her guests, si?"

At this, Hermione stopped and turned to the beauty with a sudden frown. "Susanna Fiore, you are a beautiful, sweet, passionate woman, and I love you, but these people are as much my family as my parents. More so, if I am to be totally honest, and I am begging you, to set aside your Roman sensibilities for the evening and have a plain, English dinner with these people who love me. Please, be nice to them."

"I am always nice, il mio dolce. I am upset because my new Ferragamos are being ruined in the mud." She ran a perfectly manicured crimson fingernail down Hermione's nose and leaned in close, whispering, "Mi dispiace," and Hermione melted.

They shared a brief, but firey kiss and Susanna found herself in Hermione's arms, being carried across the remainder of the Weasley garden. "Problem solved, cara, si?"

"Mm. Si." Susanna took Hermione's convenient earlobe between her teeth and the young woman nearly dropped her in the problematic mud.

As they arrived at the backdoor, Hermione set the diminutive Italian gently down on the small stone patio and opened the door, allowing her through the door before entering herself.

"Hello Weasleys, we're here!" The kitchen was empty, but the typical sounds of several voices speaking at once floated from the rooms beyond.

Then Molly entered beaming. "Hermione dear, welcome! Ron said you were having trouble navigating the garden. I am sorry for the state of the place. Without Crookshanks around anymore to chase the gnomes, the bloody things have nearly taken over. I do hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all Molly, we managed." Hermione giggled as she was enveloped in a warm Molly Weasley embrace. She then stepped back and reached a hand to Susanna who took it and stepped closer. "Mrs. Molly Weasley, I would like you to meet my girlfriend, Susanna Fiore. She's the star soprano in the Rome Opera. Susi, this is Molly Weasley, the kindest, hardest working witch in the whole of the British Isles." The women shook hands and Molly blushed.

"Oh, you." She quipped at Hermione and squeezed Susanna's hand. "Come, dears, everyone is waiting for you. Don't let George give you too hard a time, Susanna, he's harmless," she warned as she led the new addition into the living room.

Hermione chuckled and followed behind.

Around a roaring fire, introductions were made, jokes and hugs exchanged and Susanna charmed the room to their toes. As she carried on a conversation about muggle theatres with Arthur, Hermione turned to Bill and asked, "Where's Fleur?"

Bill said nothing, but his visage darkened and he pointed towards the small study off the main living room. With a knowing smile and a sad squeeze of Bill's hand, Hermione stood and made her way into the darkened room.

A single candle flickered on the desk, bathing the room in a dim, eerie light and casting a deep shadow on the flawless face of Fleur Delacour who was sat on the comfy window seat, head leaned against the cool glass.

"Fleur," Hermione began, startling her from her reverie.

"'Ermione." Fleur wiped her hands across her cheeks as if to dry tears and turned a weak smile upon the woman who had entered her sanctuary. "When did you arrive?"

"Just a bit ago. I was worried about you. I haven't seen you since... that night at St. Mungo's. You won't answer my owls and you've closed your floo. I would have come to the cottage, but I didn't want to intrude."

Fleur nodded and returned her gaze to the dark outside. Hermione moved into the room, drew her wand and conjured a small, bright, blue flame above the desk, which eclipsed the candle and cast warm light into the dark corners of the room. She joined Fleur on the window seat and drew one slim hand into both of her own. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fleur spoke.

"We should go meet your beloved, oui? She will wonder where you have gone."

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "She'll have the entire room eating out of her hand for hours. I'm much more concerned about you." She gave Fleur's hand a squeeze and a gentle stroke with her thumb. "Talk to me, Fleur. How are you feeling?"

Fleur shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. I still have pains from time to time, but nothing like before. The real pain is here." She drew her hand from Hermione's and laid it over her heart. "My arms ache for want of holding her and I sometimes hear cries in the night, even though she never took a breath." Her tears began again and Hermione scooted closer, drawing Fleur to her by her shoulders as the veela tucked her face into the crook of Hermione's long neck.

"Je suis desole, cheri. You will never forget her, but the pain will lessen, Fleur. Je promets."

Fleur's blond locks shook in the negative. "The miscarriage was months ago, amie, but it feels as though it was only yesterday. I fear I will always feel this way."

Hermione drew up her head with a gentle finger beneath her chin. "You must let us help you, Fleur. You cannot expect to heal overnight and you certainly cannot do it on your own. When you feel this way, you need only owl me. I am only an apparation away, even when I'm in Italy. OK?"

Fleur smiled wanly. "Oui, mon amie. I will."

Hermione nodded. "How is Bill?"

Fleur closed down and turned her attention back out the window. "William is distant, sad, wrapped in his own pain. We have not been good for each other the past few months. He will not touch me. I think he believes I will break. And he may be right. If he lays a hand on me, I fear I may shatter into a million pieces."

Hermione drew Fleur's attention back to her. "I have been touching you for the past 10 minutes, Fleur, and you are completely intact. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. Let him comfort you, and perhaps you can be of comfort to him." She stood and held her hand out for Fleur. "Come on, darling. Let's go back to the party. Sit next to Bill, tuck your arm into his, lay that beautiful head on his shoulder. A little goes a long way." Fleur stood and squared her shoulders. "Besides," Hermione smirked, "when have you ever been afraid of making the first move." She raised one eyebrow.

Fleur blushed and hugged Hermione tightly, holding on much longer than necessary and whispering French into her ear, causing Hermione to shiver. "Merci, mon saveur. Vous savez toujours pas quoi dire."

At that moment, Susanna strode into the room. "Hermionee, Mrs. Weasley says dinner will be in…" She stopped and frowned, crossing her arms petulantly. "Who is this, tesoro?"

Hermione turned to her girlfriend with a smile. "Susi!" She reached for Susanna's hand, still holding Fleur's in her other. "I'd like for you to meet, my dear friend, Fleur Weasley, Bill's wife. I've known her many years. Fleur, my beautiful songbird, Susanna Fiore. I think the two of you will get along splendidly."

Fleur schooled her features and reached a delicate hand out as Susanna took it. "Enchanter mademoiselle."

Each woman sized the other up as they gave each other a feminine squeeze of the hand and Susanna countered with an aloof, "Il mio piacere." She smiled and turned her attention on Hermione. "Vieni, cara. La cena è quasi pronta."

"I'll be along in a moment, darling." She punctuated her statement with a sweet kiss on Suzanna's soft cheek. After the dark-haired Italian had left the room, she turned to the blonde with stars in her eyes. "Elle est tres belle, n'est pas?"

It was Fleur's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Oui," she said with a certain wariness. "But, cheri, you did not tell me you were dating a siren."

Essere Continuato (to be continued)

A/N: Please read and review. I look forward to your feedback!

A/N 2: There has been a request to include the French and Italian translations.

All translations were procured from Google Translate and my rudimentary grasp of the French language

Vieni cara, Ci siamo quasi – (Italian) – Come on darling, We're almost there.

dove si trovail sentiero del giardino – (Italian) – Where is the garden path?

Il mio dolce – (Italian) – My sweet

Mi dispiace – (Italian) – I am sorry

Je suis desole – (French) – I am sorry

Je promets – (French) – I promise

Mon saveur – (French) – my savior

Vous savez toujourspas quoi dire – (French) – You always know what to say

Il mio piacere – (Italian) – The pleasure is mine

La cenaè quasi pronta – (Italian) – Dinner is almost ready

Elle est tres belle, n'est pas – (French) – She is very beautiful, isn't she