Steve wobbled on his feet when they reappeared out of the teleportation. It wasn't as bad as the long distance one, but it was a close thing for him to remain upright, even more so in order to not fall over Hermione, or he would no doubt crush all her bones. Given she was still in her Grim form, with a very apparent skeleton, that would not be a pretty sight.
"So… that went better than expected," Hermione said with a nervous chuckle. "I'm glad you were there. I'm not sure Harry would have listened to me otherwise. He's got a bit of a temper on him, so he usually curses first and asks questions later."
Steve nodded. He'd known a lot of guys like that in the army. Hotheads, they called them back then, although he'd have to check the meaning of that one nowadays. They weren't a bad sort, and usually got angry for a good reason, but he still thought they shouldn't hold positions of power over others. That could easily mead to abuse. It wasn't his place to say though, especially because he didn't know her friend, so he held his tongue on the matter.
"I'm glad you were able to patch things up with your friends. You did what you set out to do, so what are your plans now?"
"My conscious is a whole lot lighter, but as long as I'm cursed, there isn't a lot I can do. Not to mention I still owe Fury for taking me in… I guess my plans don't amount to much for now. So it's your turn."
"My turn? What do you mean?"
"Come on, I saw the look on your face when I mentioned Europe. Surely there's something you want to do, even if it's just sightseeing, I'm game."
Steve looked around him with the belated realization that once more, he didn't have a clue where he was. It was a beautiful hilltop with a dark lake in the distance and a crumbling castle up the slope behind them.
"Where is this?"
"Scotland. That's my former school up there. It used to be my go-to place for safety, so when we were mobbed outside the Leaky Cauldron…"
She pointed towards the ruins. Surely she meant in that direction and not in that derelict place itself. His look of confusion must have shown because she apologized, explaining about charms, illusions, wards and that muggle-repelling thing that he still found so offensive. He waved off her babbling. Seeing a skeleton gesticulate because it was flustered was as strange as it was comical, so he was hard pressed not to laugh at her.
"I was thinking we could go visit Jacques in France. I got Jarvis to track him down for me. He's old, mind. He might not even remember me, but he was a huge fan of yours and I think he might still have your jewellery."
"My jewellery?"
"Those you exchanged for food at the farms. We tried tracking you down, you know? Whenever we heard a rumour of the Snow Maiden, we went out of our way to catch up to you, but we were always too late. We collected what you left behind though, exchanged it for money, more food, or even a rifle once. That farmer had his taken by the nazis so we were happy to oblige. One of them didn't want to trade though. She was afraid of losing your blessing…" Steve trailed off. Now that he knew about magic and what she could do, he was starting to connect the dots. "Oh, you didn't just exchange food for gold, did you?"
Her dark eye sockets looked down at her bony feet. He wished she would just be herself sometimes, with a human face, just so he could see her emotions. She was hard to read as the Grim, but he would bet his shield she was blushing right now.
"Just little things," she admitted. "Repairing a roof, strengthening a fence… That sort of thing. I didn't think anyone would notice. It wasn't much."
For poor farmers, that might have been a lot. Hermione still managed to surprise him, even when he thought he finally got a grasp of her.
"No, that was kind of you. So what do you say? Fancy visiting Jacques?"
"Was he the French guy on the tank?"
"Yes," Steve replied with a pleased smile, about to tell her he was surprised she remembered when he recalled that just like him, it hadn't been that long ago for her.
"He won't recognized me like this. I might scare him, especially if he's old and superstitious."
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that." And Jacques was as superstitious as they came. "We can wait until the curse wears off and then knock at his door?"
"Sounds like a plan. Hold on tight," she said, his only warning before he was squeezed through space once more.

Hermione squirmed against him when they made it back to solid ground and he saw he was, in fact, holding tight. A bit too much given she was trying to escape his grasp, but the proximity seemed to have made the trip easier on him, so he wasn't exactly sorry, even if he apologized as he let her go.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, no. It's fine," she assured him but sounded breathless, and now he truly was afraid he had hurt her.
The bones he could see looked whole however, and now that he thought about it, she hadn't felt bony in his arms, but squishy and warm. He didn't like that that curse of hers was playing tricks on his mind, so he promised himself to help her get rid of it if he could.
A car honked at them, followed by a few choice words he had heard often enough from Jacques to know they weren't polite. Steve flipped him the bird, because he wasn't as wholesome as everyone liked to think he was, and this guy was being an ass. He did get them off the middle of the road however, guiding Hermione to the sidewalk like a dame, forgetting for once her Grim façade which always put him ill at ease.
"Paris?" he asked, taking in the old, tall, regal looking buildings and the cobbled streets. It had to be an old part of the city because even in his time, Paris had looked more modern than this.
"Yes. From here, we can get to anywhere in France in a few hours. It'll give me time to change back, but first I'm just going to-" she reached into her bag, her arm disappearing to the elbow before she retrieved a coat.
"Cold?" he asked in confusion.
She smirked at him, then changed the coat into a more familiar one: very white and long, with a large furry hood. That done, she put it back in the bag in which it shouldn't logically be able to fit. That too hurt his brain. Illusions were a pain.
"Wouldn't want to disappoint a fan," she finally explained.
Steve could have hugged her then, but he feared she might still be smarting from manhandling her earlier. He couldn't wait to see Jacques' face though. Not knowing what to say that wouldn't make him sound like a bleeding heart, or a pussy as Clint called him, Steve retrieved Jacques' address from his pocket and showed it to her.
"Provence? Well, that'll take us a few hours, but we can take a TGV all the way down. Ever ridden one?"
Steve shook his head, not sure what she was talking about apart from a mode of transportation."
A train, as it turned out, but faster than any he'd ridden before. Faster even than the one Bucky had fallen from. His mood soured instantly at the thought and he pretended to sleep for a while, not wanting to inflict his brooding on Hermione.
She had been drawing attention from the other travellers, and him by extension, but there was one thing to be said about the French: they weren't half as invasive as his fellow Americans or the Brits had been. They got curious glances mostly, and a couple of people went as far as snapping a discreet shot of them from afar, but that was about it. Hermione fell asleep halfway through the trip, then returned to her normal, human appearance, her face softer in her slumber than he had ever seen it before. She seemed at peace now that she had patched things up with her friends and been forgiven. He wished he could have that too. Going to see Jacques was one step in that direction, but most of the others had passed on already and Bucky…
Steve shook his head, not wanting to go down that path yet again, and he waited until they were nearly at their destination to nudge Hermione awake.

"How do I look?" Hermione asked in her Snow Maiden costume, looking nervous, which was cute, considering.
"Very-" he cut himself off. He couldn't say cute even if he had just been thinking it or she might take it the wrong way. "Good. Just like you used to. How do I look?" he asked back, trying to lighten the mood, but she blushed and stammered something he couldn't make out the meaning of even if it sounded positive on the whole.
Unsettled, Steve rapped sharply at the door, a young woman opening with a quizzical expression that soon turned into wide eyed disbelief as she stared between him and Hermione, but she did usher them in in the end.
"Oh, he vill be zo zo happy!" she said in broken English, the accent heavy as it was with all French folk speaking a foreign language.
She pushed them with enthusiasm towards the living room, and there he sat, his old friend, in his usual breeches and cotton shirt. His hair all but gone and his moustache peppered with grey, his face wrinkled with deep laugh lines, but most definitely him.
"Capitaine," he said as if he's been expecting him. "And ze lovely Snow Maiden. I knew I vould see you again vhen my time come."
Hermione flinched and he saw her checking her hand as if to make sure she had not reverted back to her Grim Reaper appearance.
"Don't be an ass, Jacques. You'll bury us all yet."
Jacques laughed and invited them to sit by pointing his cane at two chairs facing his. The young woman reappeared with a tray of dark coffee and pastries before leaving once more with a wide grin.
"Took your time to visit a old man."
"Got busy. Unfreezing, catching up with the world, fighting aliens and wannabee gods, the usual. What's your excuse?"
Jacques chuckled again.
"I vill eat my cane before I set foot in your land of savages. You know zat. But I forgive you because you bring the Snow Maiden. Ve know you speak now, mademoiselle, do not be shy."
Hermione smiled and apologized, explaining why she couldn't speak at the time.
"But you were a real gentleman from the start, Jacques, even more so than the Captain here."
Steve winced at the memory of the way he had tackled her to the ground when she had tried to run away from them, or how he hadn't accounted for her short stature, dragging her around on her toes as he led her back to the tank. Not his finest moments.
Jacques gave him a smug look then chattered with them about the end of the war, about the Howling Commando, the legend of the Snow Maiden and his life after everyone had gone their own way.
"All ze village celebrated vhen you ver found in ze ice, Capitaine. Ve follow your exploits on ze television. You are still very beloved in France and Europe. Have streets with your name, you know?"
Steve felt his cheeks warm. It was strange, after all these years, to be remembered as he was.
"Ah, do not fret, Capitaine. I do, too. More than you even, in zese parts."
Steve chuckled. Jacques hadn't changed after all this time, always ready for a good laugh or ribbing. He then directed Hermione towards a glass paneled shelving case behind them. Steve followed her, although he had a pretty good idea what that was about, so he wasn't surprised to see her jewelry laid out on satin cushions. He was, however, not expecting to see the picture he had drawn of her after Jacques had nagged him for it for a full two weeks after her mysterious escape. It was tastefully framed and had been carefully looked after if he could believe the pristine state it was in. He'd had to draw her from memory, but Steve was satisfied to see he had gotten a good likeness, although he now knew her to have a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her lips were fuller than what he has sketched out. Next was a children's book about her, the cover embossed with silver snowflakes, and on the bottom shelf lay several newspaper clippings about sightings of her. It was a small collection, but as complete as it could be for such an elusive character, and absolutely unique.
The young woman who ran the house coughed politely behind them. She had helped Jacques sneak up on them while they admired his collection. Steve couldn't help the pang of sorrow at seeing him look so frail and looking smaller than in his memories, but he quickly schooled his features and pointed at the camera the other woman was holding.
"Shall I take you with the ladies?" he asked.
"Idiot," Jacques replied fondly à la Française, taking another step forward to secure a spot between him and Hermione.
They put their arms around each other like old comrades, like no time had passed at all, and Steve wished so much it had been so, but he grinned at the camera. The others too. It was a really good picture.