Gift For: Margaritama

Author: Savva

Title: Of Love, Wine and Priorities

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Theodor Nott

Summary: Sometimes, we lose our way and need a little help from our friends finding it again. Apparently, Pansy is just that kind of friend.

Warnings: AU, explicit sexual situations, angst, profanity.

Genre: Romance

Rating: NC-17

Note: Million thanks to my wonderful betas. Also, many, many thanks to TycheSong for helping me with the love scene.

Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Story Notes: This story has been written for Margaritama for the Epilogue Didn't Exist gift exchange. I based this tale on the first prompt, though very loosely. Hope you'll like it.

Of Love, Wine and Priorities

M a y

"So … do you like it?" Pansy drawled, eyeing her friend with a frown.

Hermione stood in the centre of a cosy living room, pensively twirling a loose curl that had managed to escape from the chignon at the nape of her neck. Her professional robes made her look ridiculously overdressed and foreign in the country cottage. Her gaze skimmed over the wood-panelled walls and settled on an open window. "Yes, yes … wonderful," she muttered, seemingly fascinated by the gentle fluttering of a white batiste curtain. "I love it."

Pansy narrowed her eyes. Hermione's lack of enthusiasm bothered her more than she cared to admit. Being the most proficient estate agent in their circle, she prided herself on always knowing her clients' needs. "There is also a garden with a view of a neighbouring vineyard …"

"Excellent," Hermione interrupted with an absentminded nod, still staring at the window. It was obvious that her mind was far away, and she hadn't heard a single word.

Pansy pursed her lips and, slightly raising her voice, added, "… and a pond with two octopuses in it. You'll have to feed them fresh chickens every morning."

"That's fantastic." Hermione nodded again.

Pansy drew a sigh. Even though she knew the reason for Hermione's pensiveness, it pained her to see her friend in such a glum state. Of course, mending a broken heart wasn't an easy task; Pansy knew that better than many. Yet, like everyone else, she had expected Hermione to bounce back with little or no trouble. After all, she was no ordinary witch – a war heroine, a prominent political figure whose skilful campaign had just made Kingsley Shacklebolt their new Minister. Alas, in affairs of the heart, Hermione Granger was as vulnerable as ordinary witches, and an instantaneous rebound clearly wasn't happening.

Stepping closer, Pansy shook Hermione's shoulder. "Come on, hon. Snap out of it."

Hermione blinked and a small guilty smile lit up her face. "Sorry, Pans," she said. "My mind ventured somewhere else."

"And I know just where it went." Pansy smiled sympathetically. "It's over, love. You've reached a decision, and you have to stick to it, which means it's time to forget about that bastard. He is no longer your concern."

Hermione sniffled and sat down on a bench near the window. "I know, I know. It's bloody hard, though." Her fingers once again found the loose curl, and began to twist it around her thumb. "What if I never forget him? What if I won't be able to love anyone else? I honestly don't know how to move on. He's an extraordinary man in so many ways."

"He is," Pansy agreed, sitting down near Hermione. "He's also married, which makes him a git who took advantage of you."

Hermione shook her head. "Stop it. He didn't. I wasn't an innocent little girl. I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted it, and I'm as much to blame as he is."

"Don't talk nonsense! He's almost two decades older than you, and he's supposed to know better," Pansy countered with an annoyed huff. "Whatever. It's over. No more Kingsley. You are here to let go, forget, and recover. Now, please, if you don't want to leave my ego terribly bruised, tell me you like the house."

Hermione turned around, this time paying close attention to all the little details. It was clear that Pansy had outdone herself. The cottage was indeed a gem. The maplewood finish gave it the special glowing warmth Hermione had been looking for, and she could already feel its soothing effect. The well-placed windows filled the rooms with light and air, and the rustic furniture made the ground level picture-perfect. "I absolutely adore it," Hermione declared. "Seriously! I love everything about it. Everything! The wood, the furniture, the atmosphere." Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and whispered, "So peaceful."

Unable to conceal a smug smile, Pansy chuckled. "Of course you do." Springing up from the bench and exclaiming, "come on, I'll show you the rest of the house," she tugged Hermione up the narrow stairs.

After showing her all four upstairs rooms, Pansy dragged Hermione outside. Enclosed by a picket fence, the garden met them with a riotous full bloom, from wildflowers to irises to lilacs and spikes of lavender, filling the air with a rich heady perfume and the happy buzzing of bees. A circular stone table with six teak garden chairs stood in the middle of a gravelled area near the back door. From there, Hermione could see a narrow path leading to an old wicker gate, hanging a bit askew, beyond which lay acres upon acres of grapevines. A light breeze played with the new grape leaves, and a thick fog began to rise from the warm earth, slowly enveloping the hills in its sweet-smelling cocoon. A sense of calmness began to fill Hermione. She had never seen a vineyard before, and the scenery left her breathless.

Frankly, until today, she hadn't been sure that she would be able to go through with her plan. It wasn't easy to change her life so drastically. At thirty-five, instead of being at the apex of her career, she had managed to make a right mess of everything. Despite Pansy's reasoning, Hermione knew it had been her fault. She had allowed herself to mix business and pleasure. It had been foolish of her, of course, and … against a bunch of her own rules. She had fallen in love with a married man who had also been (and technically still was) her boss. It's hard to screw things up more seriously than that.

Thank goodness, she'd had enough sense to stop the madness before it ruined them both, because in the Ministry nothing stayed secret forever. After the election, she had decided, it would be better for her to disappear from the public eye. Kingsley's readiness (even eagerness) to let her go had made her shed quite a few tears. In the end, though, she had forgiven him. His motives were understandable – being a new Minister, he couldn't afford anything mucking up his reputation. Besides, she wouldn't want to see his career ruined either, and so she had left. It was time for a change of scenery anyway. Would it be temporary or permanent? Was she strong enough to leave behind her life, her career, her friends, her former love? She didn't have any answers, even now, but as she breathed the fragrant country air and gazed at hillocks covered with grapevines, she began to feel that, perhaps, she was indeed strong enough.

"Cool view, huh?" said Pansy, settling at the table and fishing two cigarettes from her handbag. Lighting one of them, she handed the other to Hermione. "Here, have a smoke."

"You know I've quit. Don't tempt me," Hermione protested, sinking into the nearest chair.

"Relax, you can start your new life tomorrow. Nothing will happen if you smoke one today." Pansy took a draw of her cigarette. "It's so relaxing here. I almost envy you, you know. I wish I could drop everything and live in the country with you."

"Maybe you should," Hermione offered, knowing damn well that Pansy never would. She wasn't a country girl at all.

"Nah, I can't abandon my clients. I have to sacrifice myself in the name of humanity."

Hermione snorted, "Right," and lit her cigarette, but after puffing a cloud of smoke, she vanished it with a quick spell. It felt silly to smoke here, and so she settled for watching how the afternoon sun caressed the bright spring greenery. She couldn't remember when she had last been out of London for pleasure. It seemed forever. She had used to love nature – what on earth had happened? She shook her head. During the last decade, her career had swallowed her whole, and then her affair with Kingsley had made everything even more stressful and complicated.

A fat bumblebee hummed nearby, reminding Hermione of her childhood; she smiled and took a deep breath. She hadn't felt so at peace with herself and her surroundings for ages. Watching the bee determinedly fly from one flower to another, she suddenly understood that somehow she had lost her purpose, her true self. She did need this break, and not only to mend a broken heart. She also needed to find and reinvent herself. Of course, she thought, it is time to sort out my priorities.

Turning to Pansy, she said, "Thank you, Pans. I don't know how you do it, but you're a bloody brilliant estate agent. I feel so at home here."

Pansy chuckled. "Give it time. I've known you long enough, hon. I don't think you'll be able to stay away from the Ministry for long. And they'll call you back soon enough. But, in the meantime, you need to heal your heart, and I hope this place will help." She put out her cigarette and stood up. "I have to go. I have another client at six. You'll have all the papers ready for you by later tonight. Oh, and there's a cute village down the road, by the way. You'll have to check it out, some time. Also, you'll find a nice winery over there." She waved towards the hill, where Hermione could see a big house.

Something about Pansy's tone tipped Hermione off, and she asked, narrowing her eyes, "Winery? Who's the owner?"

Pansy shrugged. "A wizard," she said. "A single wizard, to be exact."

"A single wizard?" Hermione arched her eyebrows questioningly. "Pans, are you up to something?"

"What are you blabbering about?" Pansy gave her a toothy smile. "I'm always up to something. Comes with the territory, darling."

Not liking the taletelling glint in Pansy's eyes one bit, Hermione muttered warningly,

"Pansy? Who is he? Do I know him? Please don't tell me you're trying to play matchmaker."

"Shush, you. I'm not trying to play anything, I swear. It's not my fault that your cottage borders on Theodore Nott's winery." Pansy picked up her handbag. "Sorry, hon, I'd love to chat more, but I really have to go." She hastily straightened her robes and Apparated away with a quiet pop.

"Merlin help me," Hermione said to herself, warily eyeing the house on the hill.