On Teenagers and Love
a story by anamatics
part three - the fog
Chapter 30 - On Chance Meetings
Coming back to Hogwarts the next morning is a subdued affair. Fleur floos with her to the Three Broomsticks and waits for an auror she knows to come and collect Hermione and the other student who was set to return to school during this timeslot. They're chatting quietly when a second figure appears at the floo. Hermione glances over to see Pansy Parkinson get to her feet and pull her wand out to cast a cleaning charm, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking around the pub. She's wearing a leather jacket that looks two sizes too big for her and a pair of trainers that are covered in mud. Once the dust is gone, Hermione realizes she looks very tan.
"Alright, Granger?" Pansy asks as she approaches them. Hermione thinks this is the first time Pansy's ever approached her to initiate conversation in public. Small victories.
"Fine. Good holiday?"
"Better if I hadn't gotten stuck in Istanbul for three hours arguing with the portkey office," Pansy wrinkles her nose. "Evidently, I am too young to be traveling alone. I had to floo my parents internationally and get a translator to make the damn customs agent understand."
"You're of age."
"Apparently I am not in Turkey."
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Was Australia nice then?"
"I never—"
Hermione grins at her. Pansy puffs her cheeks out. Fleur slings an arm over Hermione's shoulder. There's something proprietary in how she leans into Hermione's personal space. "I take it you are Mlle. Parkinson?"
She's spent enough time with Pansy by this point in time to see the tightening of Pansy's jaw and the way she wets her lips before speaking. "I am," she holds out a hand. "Pansy."
"Fleur." Taking Pansy's hand, Fleur meets Pansy's gaze evenly. "It is nice to place a face with the name." There's something in the way Fleur's eyes darken and her features grow more angular as she says this to Pansy that speaks volumes without saying a word. This is an evaluation. They shake and Pansy withdraws her hand quickly, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets.
"Right, it's just you two left to take up to the castle. Delacour, I take it you'll not be coming up to the gates with us?" Their auror, a kind-faced man named Albert, tilts his head to Fleur.
"Non, I have to get to work, sadly."
Albert gestures for Pansy to come with him, leaving some distance between them and Hermione and Fleur.
The embrace is brief, the kiss chaste, it is a parting, but not a goodbye. Hermione is tired, they'd been up half the night tangled up in each other. She'd come five times before Fleur was satisfied that everything she'd had to promise Hermione had been expressed. Now, parting just feels like a step toward the inevitable reunion in two months' time. Still, Hermione throws her arms around Fleur's shoulders and kisses her once she draws away, not caring that people can see. "Je t'adore, toujours," she whispers against Fleur's lips. "Don't get killed in that vault."
And Fleur's grin is cheeky as she collects a handful of floo powder and throws it into the flames. "I won't," she promises. She vanishes with 'I love you' on her lips.
Hermione's shoulders droop and she turns to Pansy and Albert. "Shall we?" she asks. She sounds braver than she feels.
The walk up to the castle is silent until they are beyond the gates. Albert leaves them alone then, turning back to trudge down the hill toward the village and the next gaggle of students returning from the holiday break.
Pansy waits until Albert is well out of earshot before she speaks. "Do you speak French with Delacour exclusively?"
It's an odd question. "No," Hermione answers. She hitches her bag up her shoulder. "But I've been surrounded by French speakers for two weeks." Her neck itches. She rubs at it, at the scar just healed once more. "Got into the habit."
"I see," Pansy says at length. She exhales and looks around the misty Hogwarts grounds. "My cousin told me not to come back here."
"Writing on the wall?" Hermione echoes Pansy's comment from weeks ago.
Pansy's expression grows darker. "Something like that."
It is in silence that they trudge the rest of the way up to the castle. They're on the steps when Pansy speaks again. "Will she protect you, if it comes to that?"
"As I would her," Hermione answers. She sucks in a deep breath and says, "Why do you ask?"
The smile this earns from Pansy is small, uncomfortable. She looks up at the great doors of the castle and doesn't say a word, instead walking inside, her back ramrod straight and her chin held high.
