forced | d.m.

36.arrangements

June '01 | H E R

The Zabini residence underwent a renovation.

That is the reason for a spontaneous five day trip to Deauville in the north of France; a true gem of the Normandy.

Althea can vaguely remember a renovation being mentioned when they stayed here on their honeymoon. Even fainter comes the thought that she hasn't found the place in need of any refurbishment. Maybe the shower had taken a while to get warm, yes, but that was only added time she got to work through her anxiety, safely muffled under the stream of water.

That is not to say that much changed. Exposed stone walls lead one through the humble manor as she remembers. Ancient timbers mixed with modernised elements still make for a special atmosphere.

The grounds are patiently nurtured over the course of twenty years, jawdropping and calm. A heated swimming pool overlooks a tennis court.

Stepping out the back doors, Althea breathes in the clean salty tang of the sea, a citrusy waft right in tow. Her mind is transported back into a capsule containing tragic hope and sunshine and everything surrounding château de Zabini.

"Special as always." Pansy appears beside her, arm coming around her shoulder as she looks out onto the vast scenery. "Brings you right down to what matters, this place."

Althea's lip quirks. "And what would that be?"

"Wine and cheese, of course." Squeezing her friend's shoulders once, Pansy lets go, playful light glinting in her dark eyes. "Let's freshen up before we leave or this might be our last trip."

Althea stays for a breath longer outside. Filling her lungs with one big gulp of Deauville, she lets her head fully arrive.

Out to the right, her eyes land on the guest house, it's complete modernization standing out to the rest of the primly traditional property.

While most couples would have opted for the cozier guest house for their honeymoon, Draco and her took the biggest of the four bedrooms in the main house and treated the extra air as breathing ground for thoughts rather than spoken words. Every oxygyn molecule used up for talking would draw their deaths nearer. It was precious. A barrier. A curse.

But it was all for nish when it came to nighttime. That is when Althea was made aware, by show rather than tell, that they would be sleeping in one bed together. Side by side. They hadn't slept with their backs to each other then yet. No, things had been polite, but hushed. In no way calm.

Her nerves were buzzing for the whole sole week reserved for only them, 'all hours if the day' them. She tracked her breathing in the pin-drop silence, pretended more to than actually slept. She noted his even breaths, the hand on his stomach, the other tucked under his head. How he too, seemed to have fallen asleep fast, avoiding communication, eliminating approaches.

Little did she know what was ahead of her.

What happened right before it started—or right at the start. The frigid cold that slowly settled deep inside.

Not to pity, though. Not to pity.

This time around, she'll have a great time. No more walking on eggshells. She's found her voice. He found his.

And admittedly, Thea finds herself not as opposed to hearing what comes next from his stupidly stupid gorgeous mouth than she should be.

These next five days will be testing.

Blaise tells her the elves prepared the room next to his and Pansy's for them. "Now I realize the error I made in that one."

Oh, you'll be grand.