Escape was sweet, and sweeter with Gabrielle. It had been far too long since Francis had taken a proper holiday. His brother had been suspicious about the companion he took, but had agreed to take parental responsibility for Tim and Ambrose in their father's absence. It would just be right that Ambrose blew himself up while he wasn't in Britain. Theta would mind the workshop, not that there was too much work on that week that couldn't wait for him to get back.

Naples had been a rather last-minute choice. It was one of the oldest continuously-inhabited cities in the world. It even had its own underground city, with the remains of Nero's "lost" theatre and catacombs including hypogea.

The weather was a bit warmer (well, than Britain in March at least), and it was a change of scene, and always a pleasure to be travelling with a witch who led a whole department in international affairs back in London. She was a wealth of information, always had been, but for the most fascinating miscellany.

As they wandered, just soaking in the culture before deciding firmly on whether they would take in a museum and look at antiques from Pompeii and Herculaneum or gaze upon a painted church, they held hands, and Francis wore an almost permanent smile.

"Could you ever see yourself living out away from Britain permanently? You travel all over the world, but you keep going back to our rainy little island." Francis asked his companion. "And I don't mean, back to me and everyone else, I mean, the country as a whole. Or is it just the people that keep you going back, from not moving somewhere warmer, brighter and beautiful?"

If someone had told Gabrielle that she would be spending a small holiday in Naples & alongside the love of her life two years ago, she'd have scoffed at them. Yet, here they were, strolling through the city, her body close to his, hands intertwined, & a smile almost matching the beautifully plastered one upon Francis' face. The food, wine, culture, everything to do on this trip was amplified with Francis at her side. No longer did the one-woman voyages come to mind; travelling with this man provided a journey worth taking over & over again.

Her head, rested on his body, looked up to the voice speaking. Leave England forever? Mm. "I thought it often enough in my younger days; it's why I went to Romania (for more than one reason, she mused within her mind). It's gorgeous in the winter, as is our home, but I could never live there forever... As for living in tropical weather, I'd miss the simplicities of how much snowflakes de-age me & remind me of childhood Christmases... So, it's not necessarily just the people, darling, which include you and family. It's the memories of my past that also keep me in England."

Reaching upward, she planted a kiss, returning back to the smile. "Now. What did we have in mind for meals today, Signore Pepper?"

"I just wondered," Francis replied thoughtfully, "that with all the world, that there would be little physical and landscape wise - and never weather wise to keep you there, but wrong I was." He nodded.

It was quite comforting that it wasn't only people keeping her in Britain, if they were to grow old and grey together, then perhaps they would spend long holidays or most of the winter away to ease their bones.

"To eat? Well, a little of everything I think. Definitely the local cuisine, I do like to go on holiday to embrace it from coffee to all shades of pasta and other dishes." He smiled, and lowered his voice "Do we dine amongst the Muggles, or do you know of some places amongst our kind?"

He'd not visited Italy in his years before, so he was somewhat following Gabrielle's lead on matters as the globe trotter.

Listening to the other go on about what to do and how to enjoy it only caused Gabrielle to grin. True, of the two of them, she was the seasoned traveler and Gabrielle supposed it was good considering it was a perk of being in her department. That said, there were still places she hadn't seen and were rather curious to explore. America and the Plains, its Midwest and the South. Massachusetts was gorgeous and steep with history, but it was clear the witch wanted to see much more.

All thoughts returned to then towards Francis' original inquiry about their meal. "Let's go native and be one with them - after all, when have I ever really led you astray when it pertained to cuisine?" A pause and a crinkled nose formed. "Save for the time when I attempted to cook a meal Great-Grandmother Crina made, hm? Lesson learned and met there, I assure you."

"Oh dear Merlin…" Francis remarked as he remembered that incident, eyes half closing and head shaking.

So they set off amongst back streets and squares and followed their noses. Admiring architecture and bridges and singing street artists and the curious attire of Muggles. He felt a decade younger. Perhaps more than a decade.

"Would you look at that?" Francis asked pretending to point past to a fountain, but as Gabrielle turned, he planted a tender kiss on her lips. The fountain was  rather lovely, but not worthy of a sudden distraction to look at it. It had just been a cunning distraction.

"I was pointing out the fountain," he explained in pretend surprise, "not to give me a kiss, my love." But he smiled and laughed with her. "don't blame me, I can't help myself when you're beside me."

Oh, this wonderful, deceptive, clever man.

The fountain's beauty, indeed. Pah. Swatting him gently, Gabrielle smirked at Francis, the kiss fresh still, lips begging for more than trickster chaste ones. "Oh, the fountain is no doubt beautiful, my dearest Francis. The attention to detail by its creators are well noted. However, it only lives through gears and water alone." Reaching up, she placed her lips back to his, kissing for a good few minutes, illiciting a few cat calls and wolf whistles from the natives.

"Whereas," she began when pulled away, lips still close but not touching, "we live on emotions, blood, water, organs. I prefer emotions and blood as it keeps us moving, no?" Pressing lips once again to Francis', Gabrielle pulled herself closer, inhaling his cologne, touching the fabric of his clothing, and relishing in the happiness of the two who hadn't had it for one another in so long.

Relative to Francis and Gabrielle, time stood still. It ground to a halt - and the sound of the fountain faded out as nothing in the world mattered at all for the duration of that heated kiss. Alone in the world without anyone to watch them who knew them, no children, no family, no work… he'd even slipped his wedding ring off so that observers would not wonder at Gabrielle's lack of such.

This was as he remembered but as suddenly intense as those weeks leading up to the proposal all those years ago. Where his young brother would make vomit noises when he was in their presence, even though he wasn't a stranger to love either.

Her fingers laced around the cloth of his shirt grazed his ribs beneath and sent his mind tittering like a lusty teenager - hairs rising on the back of his neck with those strong memories and that rush of blood she so mentioned.

Despite being in public, his hands found the nape of her neck and the small of her back, bringing them both tightly close together beside the fountain. When their heated kiss broke, their foreheads met gently, and Francis gazed into her eyes at close focus.

"When you put it like that," he breathed, "I forget everything about sightseeing Naples."

It was an utterly truthful confession - after being so alone and at a loss, being back with Gabrielle even on their quieter arrangement as Francis negotiated the legality of leaving Claire, he had fallen quickly, and deeply back in love with Gabrielle.

He suspected he had never quite been out of love with her, and had merely loved Claire in a different way - in that she and Francis could live and raise a family together while being content to share it all: making do with their lot in life. Claire had always had someone before - and he knew that if circumstances had been different, she'd have never left that other unspeakable, and would never have decided to set up a life with him.

"I am a second away from running away with you, my bold, beautiful, wonderful woman." He lifted his hand from her neck and caressed her face to reiterate the sentiment.

"Ottenere una stanza, piccioncini!"

Gabrielle giggled at the call as their foreheads were still touching one another. "Clearly, we're being adolescents, Messeur Pepper. But I don't mind one bit. After all, to kiss you for the rest of the day, in public and private, would be a pleasure indeed."

She grinned.

"The sightseeing can wait, you know. Dinner too. Running away, however, cannot. That would be marvelous albeit dangerous. Monty and your boys would have your head, Perse my own. I can't always be taking holidays....well, long term ones, hm?" she quipped, nuzzling against his hand, eventually moving her head to kiss the worn hand. "I love you so very much....and I never want to stop saying that again. Ever."

"With all my heart I would hope to give you no reason to stop, my dear." Francis replied without hesitation, smiling thankfully.

"We've time, just to pretend for these few days, while they're at school. My brother can fly a hundred cars before I think he has an opinion on who I do or do not fall in love with."

He kissed Gabrielle again, more briefly this time, their hands clasping.
"Perhaps we'll take the shorter route back after eating, hmm? Make plans to get away somewhere a little more remote tomorrow -" he winked, meaning that they might apparate, "if we make it out at all."

Planting another lingering kiss, he stepped back, whirled Gabrielle round and into an embrace from behind.
"I'm absolutely ravenous, Miss Murray," he spoke gently into her ear, "but in the meantime, we should eat. Let's try up there." He reached out an arm over her shoulder to a street leading off the square away from the fountain that was littered with tables out in the street. It looked the sort of place. 

This man was positively more and more hard to keep up with in responding with equal squishy, loveable word phrases. His lingering kisses only burnt her cheeks, stung her lips in craving for more. His arms wrapped around her anchored two bodies against one another, keeping them close and reminding her how much Francis truly loved Gabrielle. She was caught up in all of it - the adoration, the passion, the love, the sun bathing their skin while he rested against her body.

Eyeing his given direction, Gabrielle nodded in affirmation. "Yes, that sounds perfect as does the thought of going somewhere remote tomorrow. Being with you is a journey and a half as it is. As for Monty, what have I to worry about a man who tinkers with automobiles when I have a man who tinkers with my heart? Seems to me the heart tinker has the automobile one beat by more than a county mile, hm?" she urged, nuzzling against his face.

"I'm so glad we're together again. I've missed you holding me, whispering sweet nothings into my ears. Even as I'm not always keen on it, knowing your eyes watching me sleep eases all anxieties I may have. I love you so very much, my darling Francis."

Francis Pepper was the happiest man alive, and a significant part of him wished that the trip to Naples with Gabrielle had no end. Thoughts of the time turner workshop, his sons, his wife, friends, family, flying cars, political difficulty, obligations and everything apart from the woman who lay beside him, who laughed until she cried as they remembered old stories from school days and years that followed, were forgotten.

The following day they picnicked up in the hills, a basket full of fruits, cheeses, pasta, ripe tomatoes, green salad, and several bottles of wine. Tucked away from Muggles, there in the flash of an eye with their magic, watching the sun make its way round the sky with the shade of olive trees arching above them, what was lost in temperature at this time of year, replaced with a few well-chosen charms.

When their bellies were full, they stretched out on the blanket, fingers laced together, admiring the colours in the wine against the clear sky.

"I'm so very sure I dreamed about this some time when we were together." He told Gabrielle thoughtfully. "But in those days I had the strangest of dreams - the occasional night sleeping beside myself, knowing that the next day I'd have to relive my day again, and use the time to clean my place." As a younger man he'd made more mistakes with the turners than he did these days, so occasionally found himself sent back several hours more than was meant when he tested things.

"I used to try and imagine what our children would be like." He explained, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered it. "Whether they'd be unable to escape curls in their hair, how tall they might be, what houses they might be at Hogwarts, how many we'd have." He looked over to Gabrielle.

"Not too late of course." He spoke softly, shifting his weight to caress her cheek gently a moment, thoughtful. "Be a joy to have a daughter, perhaps. Me with the boys, my brother with the girls seems impossible. Then again, we were two boys to my parents." He gave a little shrug, eyes raising up automatically as he thought back historically.

"Did you used to dream of what could be back then?" He asked, dropping his hand and taking a sip of wine. "Since?" He added tentatively, aware that Gabrielle had seen him fall in love with another woman, marry her, set up home and family together, and see him fall apart over a decade later as a friend. 

"I'm so very sure I dreamed about this some time when we were together."

Gabrielle's heart fluttered, her eyes slinking lazily over towards Francis with the softest but most meaningful of grins at his revelation. Where he had meddled with time, she indeed had meddled about with finding Muggle magazines of bridal and wedding ideas, cutting them out and pasting them into an old leather bound book. Photos of clothing, floral arrangements, tips on do's and don't's (after all, Mina was gone and a young adult Gabrielle wasn't too keen in having Carmina put her into a stuffy old lady's dress) for the wedding, and even photos of her, Francis were in it. And perhaps even a small listing of names were they ever to have children.

This said book[1] was still about, tucked neatly in with the volumes of wizarding books in the library at Murray Manor, inconspicuous to any looking at the rows upon rows within the room. "Did you now? I imagine I did as well, but certainly not with a belly full of the most delicious menu planned by one wonderful man," she teased lightly, turning to move and kiss him briefly on the lips, grinning boldly to Francis. "I daresay you 're becoming quite the cook; Imp'll be pleased that you're improving. Who knows? Maybe he'll finally get a chance to retire permanently in the cellar."

"I used to try and imagine what our children would be like. Whether they'd be unable to escape curls in their hair, how tall they might be, what houses they might be at Hogwarts, how many we'd have."

"I always did want a daughter...." She paused briefly, but continued on since it did seem confessions were the topic in this major discussion, "with you. A boy seemed a pleasant idea, but a girl? Considering....." A brief sniffle as it was clear to Gabrielle where her reasoning was coming from. "Mother. Don't get me wrong; I love Quince with all my heart and being, Father too. But. I wanted a girl to cherish and love on, to give to her what my mother wasn't fully able to do. I....I did dream once of such a girl when we began our courtship." A soft laugh spilled from her lips. "She did have your infamous (Gabrielle winked) curly hair, but my eyes. She was beyond beautiful." Raising their interlaced hand, Gabrielle kissed it twice before nuzzling into the skin.

"As for dreaming 'since'? Yes. I have. I still have not the desire to ruin the boys, but as I told you when we rekindled this relationship, I promise to love them and not ever once make them forget how much Claire loves them. After all, when I see Mother's painting, she always smiles at me; I know she's proud and well, happy that I'm finding the happiness for so long I held quietly below. I love you, Francis Albert Pepper. You're my thought when I rise and when I lay my head down to sleep. If we wish to wed and form our own family, nothing would please me more than that."

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His expression softened in surprise at her explaining about still wanting a daughter with him. He'd had two boys, considered that enough with Claire - she had always been quite set on two children. His brother had three. Francis had respected her wishes, though had also wondered if a third might be a little girl. Fond of his nieces, he had also wondered about what a daughter of his might look like.

"… she did have your infamous curly hair, but my eyes. She was beyond beautiful…" He closed his eyes a moment to picture the image, a smile playing across his lips.

"… I love you, Francis Albert Pepper. You're my thought when I raise and when I lay my head down to sleep. If we wish to wed and form our own family, nothing would please me more than that."

Beneath the blissful Italy sunlight, Francis leaned over and kissed Gabrielle with all his heart.

"I would love nothing more," he told her, cradling her face, "we've been given a second chance and I will not hesitate to do anything to take advantage of the moment."

He would break laws to turn back time and stay in that moment.


End