AN: Oh forgot to mention, the club I described last chapter actually exists, I think near Karlsruhe? Its been like 8 years since I've been there and can't remember the name, but in actuality, it is rather popular for soldiers stationed in K-Town. Most anyone who has spent some time there can remember this awesome club that had a lot of different themes but not the name.
Also, a lot of the information/perceptions will be based on my own experiences in these countries, and while I do speak the languages, its funnier when there's miscommunication. however, that also means that some of the information may be wrong because its my experience as an American traveling abroad.
Fleur will be showing up soon too, I promise. Just need to find the right place for her to show up at... also, I suck at typing the French accent so... imagine that being present. And lastly, I realize that translation software will probably be more accurate than this, but I need it to convey a specific thing so, it will mess up appropriately. Speech in italics will be "French". Some may make sense, some may not due to "bad translations".
Hermione packed her bag, a black duffel which sat upon her neatly made bed. Her brown eyes scanned the room one last time, looking for anything essential she might have missed. Seeing nothing, she sighed quietly, bending over to grab the straps of her bag and sling it over her shoulders. She picked up her train ticket from the desk and made her way downstairs.
The last week had drug by, but they had successfully passed COMET and the hardest part of her year was done. She had a roughly planned out itinerary in her hands, but most of it was left open as she wasn't sure what all she would find to do in Paris. And she could always return later, it wasn't too long of a train ride after all.
She stopped at the Staff Duty desk by the doors and signed out on leave. The sergeant behind it sitting in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk and a magazine in hand. He barely glanced up at her as she signed out, only acknowledging her presence with a grunt. The irony of being free to go fight in wars and murder in the name of freedom but needing a babysitter 24/7. Accountability they called it. Lack of trust is what she called it. But shenanigans did often occur in the barracks. She chuckled as she remembered last weeks floor buffer rodeo. Or the jousting match the week before. That had been entertaining to say the least.
Two privates had been in full battle rattle and wielded a broom under their arm. They were wheeled towards each other in a rolling chair by two other privates as fast as they could manage. The one to stay upright won. Three brooms selflessly gave their lives that day.
Hermione put her earbuds in and made her way to the train station. She still had some time before it came but she preferred to be early, something the Army had instilled in her, 10 minutes early was on time if not late.
When the train arrived, Hermione made her way up the stairs and towards her seat, stowing her duffel on the metal rack near the doors. She had a thick book in her hands and her headphones were blasting rock music. A tight black band t-shirt and medium wash blue jeans once again showed off her curves. This time however, she sported a thick leather bracelet and studded belt. She was going for more of a punk look today and her curly brown hair had been straightened and flowed loosely down her back, looking slightly messy. Her body had become more defined with her time in the military, regular workouts helped her put on quite a bit of muscle and she definitely looked more toned than she had back in high school when she was just the nerd in the back.
She had managed to come into her own, and knew she looked good, having gained quite a bit of confidence, she knew how to command attention now, and while it had made her uncomfortable at first, she had realized she enjoyed it, women seemed to be drawn to someone in control.
Hermione took a seat by the window, watching the people on the platform come and go, all walking with a destination in mind, barely taking in their surroundings. Some however, with larger suitcases looked around in wonder, amazed by their surroundings, as if everything was entirely foreign, and she supposed it might be to them.
A whistle sounded in the distance, and within a couple of minutes the train was slowly lumbering out of its spot, moving along, gaining speed as it crept until the view outside was a blur. The car swayed to and fro in a soothing motion, the clacking of the tracks underneath interrupted only once in a while with a jarring turn or uneven ground. She had quickly grown used to the movement, finding it brought an enjoyable kind of peace she had not found back at home. The experience was rather relaxing, and she slouched down in her seat, propping her book open and began to read, settling in for a long journey.
Hours later, a whistle sounded and the train slowed to a stop, pulling into a station, green metal arches curved around the tracks while the roof was made of clear glass. Birds chirped noisily in the covered station as Hermione stepped off the train, her duffel once again on her back.
She made her way to the exit, taking in the scenery, noting a definite difference in architecture between that of the German town surrounding the post and Paris, despite the two being relatively close geographically. She walked down the stairs of the station and found a cab to take her to her hotel. She was eager to explore the city, but wanted to do so without her luggage, and as her stomach rumbled loudly, maybe she'd find some dinner too. It was now early evening and she hadn't eaten since breakfast before she left that morning.
Hermione stepped out of the hotel, onto the cobblestone sidewalk, she paused, looking both ways down the street, trying to decide which way to go first before she turned to the left deciding that direction looked more promising. She repeated her actions at every intersection, taking the direction that looked more interesting each time as she had no specific destination in mind and wanted to familiarize herself with the area she was staying in.
She finally stopped at a small cafe, two giant open windows and a small dark green awning greeting her. She stepped inside, drawn in by the delicious aroma wafting out of the kitchen. The clinking of dishes and the subtle music playing filled the cafe.
The brunette was led to a small table along the wall and handed a menu by a young man in black pants, white shirt, and a clean white apron tied around his waist. Hermione looked down at the menu and froze, realizing it was all in French and she couldn't understand any of it. She studied it carefully, trying to see if she could make out any of the words, if anything looked a bit familiar. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she couldn't figure out much other than a couple items had cheese, and a couple of others were on croissants. Or maybe they came with them? She wasn't entirely sure, but the word was there, and she knew that much.
The waiter must have seen her confusion and walked back over to her, asking with a thick French accent, "Do you need an English menu?"
An embarrassed look passed over her features as she nodded shyly and he handed her an English version of the same menu. Much to her relief, the rest of the meal went without a problem, she ended up ordering pork chops in a cranberry sauce which she greatly enjoyed.
However, she soon realized her earlier mistake when she stepped back out into the warm night air. A light breeze blew her hair and she looked about, remembering which direction she came from, she headed to the right, but at the next intersection she was unable to remember her path.
She stood there, looking back and forth for a minute, starting tentatively down one way and then upon not recognizing anything, heading back, thinking she'd gone the wrong way. But none of the paths panned out for her, nothing looked familiar, and without knowing the language, none of the signs stood out to her.
Hermione spied a slender blonde beauty walking towards her across the street. There were few people out at this time, the streets mostly vacant, and this woman appeared to be about her age and well dressed. Hermione reasoned that she wouldn't be at risk of being robbed by her when the other woman would inevitably realize she was a clueless foreigner.
She gathered what courage she could before crossing the street, hoping to catch the blonde before she disappeared and her opportunity was lost. Hopefully she spoke English.
"Excuse me."
The blonde stopped and turned towards her, light blue eyes shining in the dark. Her pale features had hidden her true beauty with distance, but up close she was really quite stunning.
"Yes?"
Hermione froze, gathering herself quickly, "Uh, do you speak English?"
The other woman looked at her with sad eyes, shaking her head no. Hermione thought for a moment, then holding up a finger, reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, remembering she had installed a translation app when she'd first arrived in Europe, but hadn't ever actually needed to use it luckily.
She spoke into her phone like the app instructed, having selected the language to translate to as French, "Can you help me find my hotel?"
"Will you come to my hotel?" The phone spoke as Hermione stood there dumbly, an embarrassed smile on her face.
An indignant look crossed the blonde's face as she slapped Hermione across the face, "I am not a prostitute!"
The phone spoke next, "I am not a prostitute."
Hermione looked down, eyes wide, she really should have tried this out sooner to make sure it worked. "No! No! I'm lost, I don't know how to get back." She waved her hands at the blonde, gesturing wildly as she talked hoping to convey the message and not offend her any further.
The blonde grabbed her hand as the phone jabbered away, neither listening to it, and pulled her into a nearby shop, the one she had come from earlier to be precise.
She spoke quickly to the woman behind the counter before stepping to the side and waving her hand between Hermione and the other woman. Hermione looked like a deer caught in headlights still, not wanting a repeat of the last time, and not sure if the woman spoke English.
"D-do you speak English?"
The woman smiled and nodded at her while the blonde stood back and watched their interactions. Hermione quickly explained what had happened to her and that she needed to get back to her hotel. The other woman relayed it to the blonde and, upon finding out the name of the hotel, the blonde smiled and thanked the woman behind the counter before pulled Hermione back out of the shop and into the street.
They set off at a rapid pace, Hermione being drug along as the woman turned down different streets without pause. Hermione secretly wondered if she was being kidnapped or would be murdered, but then realized if that was the case the blonde wouldn't have taken her to speak with the other woman.
Their pace slowed after a couple blocks and the blonde let go of Hermione. The silence between them was suffocating almost as Hermione knew she had travelled quite a distance earlier and this woman was being way more helpful than she had expected. She attempted to try starting up a conversation, unsure of how useful her phone would be.
She figured the best place to start would be with names. "My name's Hermione, what's yours?"
The blonde paused and looked at her, waiting for the phone to translate. And when it did, she smiled and replied "Fleur."
The two of them both laughed however when the phone then translated Fleur's name, speaking in its digital voice, "Flower".