On Teenagers and Love

a story by anamatics

part three - the fog

Chapter 17 - On Small Crises

an: I do hope that people don't think this is a cheating story because yike


The letter that Fleur writes to Hermione a few days after the strange conversation with Pansy is not the sort that can be read over the breakfast table. Hermione peaks into it, and her brow furrows before her cheeks go scarlet. Across from her, Ron makes a grab for the letter.

"Ronald!" Hermione practically shrieks. She's already shoving the letter down the front of her robes where she's sure Ron won't go after it. "That is not for you."

He sticks his tongue out at her. "Anything that makes you blush like that is worth sharing, 'Mione." Beside him, Lavender glares and Hermione, because she is not above such pettiness, glares right back.

"I don't think it's any of your business, Ron," Lavender says. Her voice is absolutely quivering with barely concealed annoyance. Hermione doesn't envy him for what Lavender is sure to say to him later.

"Aw, come on, it's just Hermione," Ron protests.

And this time, Hermione glares at him as well, right up until the time that she heads off to ancient runes, the letter pressed close to her heart. Ron is – argh – he's such a boy. And she knows it's all in good fun, but she won't stand for him objectifying her the way he does on occasion. She'll have to speak to Lavender too, about Ron and assure her that there's nothing there for her to be worried about. She isn't sure why she feels the need to reassure Lavender, but it feels like the thing an adult would do. This is still new to Lavender – who's never really dated like Parvati has – and Hermione is one of Ron's best friends. The last thing any of them need is for there to be strife.

She snatches a spare moment alone in the dormitory, her curtains drawn tight against the chill, just before lunch. She's got an empty period and usually would be in the library, but Fleur's letter has gone unread long enough.

Mon Amour –

Words cannot bring to bear the ache I feel in my heart at your absence. I long for you touch, your smell, your taste. I know you are safe, locked away in that castle with Albus and Minerva looking over you, but it is not enough for the wildness in my heart. I must be there, beside you, to protect you from the evils lurking in this world. I have explained this to grand-mere, and she assure me this is natural. You are mine, and you are threatened. What little of the veela I carry within me pushes against my better instincts and I have found myself in Hogsmeade twice while attempting to apparate home from work.

I know you're sure to mention the dangers of splitching myself if I am apparating while distracted or thinking of anything other than my destination – but my destination will always be you. You are the one I have promised, and our promise is blessed. I long to wake with you in my arms, to hold you while you sleep, to see you at the moment of your release, and my magic takes me to you.

My heart aches and cries out to you with every passing moment. I'm sure yours does the same. We do not have the time others in our situation have, not yet at least. When this is over, I remind myself, we will have all the time in the world.

Your situation with Mlle. Parkinson is equally troubling as my own magic's betrayal. Hermione, has it occurred to you in that big smart brain of yours that she may like you? The moment you described is one we shared together in the library two years ago, one which stands between comradery and something more. I cannot tell you not to speak to her anymore, though with all my heart I wish I could. I trust you, Hermione, but sometimes you can become blinded by your need to understand fully. She is providing you with a means of doing this for your project, and in doing so she is drawing close to you in ways I do not like given what she's said about your heritage in the past.

It is up to you what you make of this situation, but I believe you have built an ally in this girl – if only you can make her realize you are not an object for whatever misplaced affection she may have.

With faith and trust, always.

Hermione sets the letter down and pulls the curtains on her bed that face the window open. She stares out at the grey sky, clouds hanging low over the snow-covered grounds, and exhales shakily. Was Fleur right? Was she allowing herself to be drawn into something she didn't fully understand with Pansy just by nature of their closeness? Her fingers pull the necklace and its blue stone out from underneath her school shirt and curl around it. The ache she feels at Fleur's absence is there, the bond now in place and their fates intertwined.

From her school bag, Hermione draws a piece of paper and pours her heart out onto it, not apologizing, for she will not apologize for not having done anything wrong, but trying to assuage Fleur's fears as well as her own. She blows the ink dry and skips lunch to go to the owlry before heading to the third floor and Professor McGonagall's office.

"I need to change patrols," she announces when she's let into the room.

Professor McGonagall is sitting behind her desk, a stack of essays before her covered in red ink. Tea steams at her elbow. "Why is that?" She asks. "Professor Snape and myself were under the impression you two worked well together, despite the house rivalry and Miss Parkinson's family's politics."

Hermione stands in the doorway and pulls the door shut tightly behind her. She's never had a conversation like this before, not with anyone, and she's terrified that it's McGonagall she's run to. Swallowing, she steps closer to the professor's desk. "I cannot work with Parkinson, not all the time. She… Professor I think she likes me and it's upset Fleur and I don't – we're bonded – I can't let that, I would never but somehow it's gotten all mixed up and I'm worried I've led Parkinson on."

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall says, stopping Hermione before she can continue on. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Mouth snapping shut, Hermione nods silently and comes to sit on the hardbacked chair across from Professor McGonagall's desk. She takes the tea that's offered to her and refuses her usual sugar and milk. There's a bitterness in her stomach she thinks would be best suited for the strong bitterness of black tea. Exhaling, she takes a sip, ignoring its heat, and lets her shoulders slump forward. "Am I being unreasonable?"

There's a beat then, and then another, before Professor McGonagall speaks. "You are very young to have bonded with anyone. I had my concerns when I saw the necklace last year, but I suspected Miss Delacour had thought long and hard about the consequences of not bonding with you while Delores was here and chose not to say anything. I did hear from Molly Weasley that you've returned the gesture."

Hermione takes a sip of tea and nods. "Over the summer."

"And the union is blessed?"

"Fleur's grandmother approves," Hermione answers. "And it's her opinion that matters, according to Fleur and everything I've read on veela." She stares glumly down into her tea and draws her fingers up silently to remove the teabag. She's been practicing silent, wandless magic on small things when she's had a chance, and her control is getting better. The teabag hovers above her tea for a moment until its cool enough to touch. Hermione sets it on the saucer and sighs. "Her mum…isn't pleased that she's chosen to stay in England with things being how they are. Thinks it because of me."

"Is it?" Professor McGonagall asks. Her glasses have slipped slightly down her nose. "Not that I wish to pry into your life, Hermione. I fear Miss Delacour is somewhat alienated from most of her support system at the moment. Her parents want her to come home, but she feels compelled to stay out of a sense of duty to Cedric Diggory's memory and her bond with you."

"She has Bill, and Marietta, too. And the rest of the Weasleys." Hermione knows she sounds almost ragged with the emotions she's holding back. She concentrates on the tea, sipping it, waiting for it to cool, wishing she'd asked for sugar but not wanting to ask now. "I just wish…"

"To be with her, I know." Professor McGonagall's face is kind. "Young love is a fragile thing, Hermione. Especially in these dark days. And found family isn't the same as your real family – I'm sure you know that quite well at this point. It is your real family that hurts you the most because they know you best. Miss Delacour is not at peace with her family and therefore she feels vulnerable, and has…if I am gathering what you said at the start correctly, mistaken your tentative peace with Miss Parkinson as something more than it actually is."

Hermione sets the tea down on the edge of Professor McGonagall's desk to hide that her hands have started to shake. She inhales slowly. "I think I did it. Maybe not directly, but I've been talking with Pansy a lot about arithmancy recently. Fleur's pants at it and I need to talk to someone since no one else in Gryffindor is taking it. I took her to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party since Malfoy wouldn't. I – I feel like maybe Fleur isn't wrong, and I've let Pansy over some sort of line I didn't know existed?"

There's a rattle and Professor McGonagall has produced a half-eaten sleeve of muggle gingernuts from her desk drawer. She takes two and hands the tube to Hermione. "Is it wrong to have friends?"

"No."

"Do you wish to be friends with Miss Parkinson?"

"I…" Hermione takes a biscuit, snaps it in two. "I hadn't thought about it. I just assumed it couldn't ever happen."

"Why not?"

"Because she's best friends with Draco Malfoy, because her parents hate muggleborns, because she's a snob about her proofs and it's infuriating when she tells me I've made careless mistakes like I don't know what I'm doing when I'm top of the year in the subject." Hermione's nostrils flare. "Because she has so many things to say about Fleur and my's relationship. She asked me why we didn't announce in the papers, professor."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrow raises. "You do realize that the Delacours are one of the oldest wizarding families in France? Her mother is in high up in the French wizarding government. Such…engagements…are usually announced, even if it's just in a continental paper given how things are. Miss Parkinson's manner might be poor, but her concern is legitimate in terms of the broader aspects of wizarding society. Bill Weasley's engagement announcement was in the Prophet, even though it wasn't particularly specific and had no dates."

"She's awful, too. Stuck up and rude." Hermione grumbles. "And I don't care about all that."

"Miss Parkinson does, Hermione, as to a great many of your classmates whose families don't fall onto the side you seem to have determined Miss Parkinson falls onto. And while I understand that her presence in your life may have upset Miss Delacour, and may also be upsetting you, I can't very well rearrange prefect patrols a month into term. I think you should speak to both Miss Delacour and Miss Parkinson about what's happened and the confusion you are feeling." Professor McGonagall picks up her tea then and takes a sip before frowning and tapping her wand on the side of the mug to reheat it. "Communication is important in relationships, and in friendships – or the start of ones."

"Is that what this is, professor?"

"I don't know, Hermione. Eat your biscuit and go think about what I've said."

It's a dismissal. Hermione gets to her feet slowly. "Should I apologize for Fleur?"

"Do you feel you have done anything wrong?" Hermione shakes her head. "Did she say you've done anything wrong?" Again, Hermione indicates the negative. "Then don't. See her at the next Hogsmeade weekend and maybe bring Miss Parkinson along if that would help to smooth things over." Professor McGonagall smiles thinly at Hermione. "And consider if you'd like to pursue a mastery in arithmancy. Miss Parkinson has already spoken to Professor Vector about it."

"I will." Hermione says, even though the idea of doing anything other than surviving her N.E.W.T.s and the coming war is beyond her.