Chapter number 4! Yayzerz, I'm really happy! Just to let you know: even I don't really know what's going to happen at the end of the story or the next chapter. Which makes my job easier (I don't have to worry about giving too much hints) and more interesting: I'm just as curious about how they will get together as you are^^
Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, I don't know what I'd do… *blushes and tries not to imagine it*
England: *rolls eyes* You couldn't deny your nationality if you wanted to…
Me: Pot calling the kettle. You're far more perverted than I am, but rest assured: It's a part of why we love you^^
England *gawks, splutters and whatnot *

4

Oh she was doomed all right, Elizaveta just knew it.
As soon as she opened the door of her house on the day after the meeting, the smell of her late meal reminded her of her failure: she completely forgot about the lunch she made herself two days ago. She didn't dare to eat it now, not after two nights and one and a half days spent without refrigerator in this Indian summer! The last thing she needed was a couple of days in hospital with food poisoning. Her boss would really go bonkers if she dared to fall ill now, with one of her cities being the European Capital of Culture…
That's the other thing: Sarkozy apparently found out why France was sulking (the nation himself didn't whine, she was fairly sure, knowing his big pride and ego- it was a personal offence, so Francis was sure to keep the revenge at that level), he told the Hungarian Prime Minister and the President of the Republic, who in turn called her already when she was still in London, and lectured her about how to talk to major West-European nations. To which Elizaveta said in rapid Hungarian that it was Francis himself who began being a total jerk in the first place, and adding that they might be her bosses and they had the final word in diplomacy, economy and other things, but this belonged to her private life and they will respect that. Well, maybe she was using a bit stronger language (including that she wasn't their frigging puppet, for Christ's sake), but it meant the same.
After she threw the meal out and washed the dishes, she sat down to her kitchen table with a great sigh and buried her face into her hands. She didn't know what's gotten into her lately. That fight with France could've been avoided had she been less irritated deep inside (with what, she had no idea, but her favorite frying pan lying across the Channel and in her house could have a great deal to do with it, she guessed), and had she not thought France has just trying to get her yet again. When she said goodbye to England, she most probably made a laughing-stock of herself- she didn't remember behaving like that since she hit puberty, and that was back in the Middle Age! As for her bosses: she was just like every other nation, she kept her calm with them 90% of the times. The last freak-out she remembered was… yes, around 1956, after the uprising was crushed. She had a vague feeling she'd have to apologize, but she dismissed it- it's no use trying to pretend nothing happened.

Hungary blushed at the thought, for it reminded her that she must face her emotions. They were in a complete mess, that's why she acted so unlike her usual self. What might have caused this? She liked to know the reasons, the logic behind the things (maybe that's why she learned to play chess so quickly). She could give good advises even about emotions and romance (being a romantic deep down)- yet her own situation seemed to be an unsolvable mystery.
I need a third person who can judge clearly… -she sighed. The only problem was that she didn't know who to ask. Feliciano or Romano are most likely busy with Spain and France, Germany was even more hopeless than her, so were Japan and Switzerland, America, Russia and the other aquaintances were out of question, Feliks had his own problems with Euro2012, and Austria… well… he wasn't the best, either. Of course she considered only nations- there was no way she would tell THIS to a human! She's far too old to behave like a teenage girl with a…
She shook her head. This was just ridiculous; she certainly didn't have a crush on anyone, let alone developed one in the past days! Or… or did she?

Oh, no… she was blushing again, and her heart suddenly beat faster. That meant she did, in fact, have a crush, and a huge one at that. Maybe not only a crush, rather…
No. She had to stop here. It was already a great mistake, calling the crush by its name. Words did indeed have power, even if not said out loud. In this situation, for example, it was crystal-clear that nothing would ever be the same between her and England. She could pretend to be still only friendly, but it wouldn't be just like as it used to be. Not for her, at least, and she knew her face and eyes had a knack of behaving like an open book- the last thing she would be able to bear was anyone finding out, especially England himself. Man, did she begin to sound cliché… But she could understand now: the near-friendship they had until now might not suffice for her, but she didn't dare to risk it, no matter how cowardly this seemed. And she didn't see any chance he saw anything like that exactly in her. As much as she loved daydreaming, this one time she felt she couldn't allow that to herself.

Trying to shake these thoughts out of her head, she stood up and went up to her room, to unpack her suitcase and to check her e-mails. By now, there was surely something new about that next meeting…
She face-palmed; how on Earth could she forget that?! It will be in Paris, and she will have to be more than cautious, now that she angered France. Great… another problem on her to-solve-list. Really, bloody wonderful. She was as good as done for, the way she knew France and his revenges. She might as well compose a will…

Her hands were slightly shaking as she put all her garments away, and she closed the doors or her wardrobe with unneeded strength. That's not good… she'd have to go shooting or riding again to calm down, and she didn't have time for that. Closing her eyes, she tried to take a deep breath and overcome the stress. When she opened them, she felt a bit better, so she looked around to decide what to do next- and a weird hairgrip that was standing on one of the shelves met her eyes.
It had the shape of a butterfly, a black one with reddish brown and yellow dots. As soon as someone looked at it, one could see something was out of place- after closer examination, you could know it was inversed. No, not the colors… rather… the head and the abdomen were switched. Hungary remembered it very well- it was a gift from England, a little token she received when she personally went to tell him they stood in war during WWII. He only nodded, and with a slight blush, gave her a little package, only to be opened after she got home. This was its content, and a short letter, in which he said he understood this was war, and that he didn't hold any grudge.
She had to bite into her lip, deep in thought. Did he hope they would meet again, under better circumstances? That she would fly back to him? Or he merely knew she wanted nothing more than to keep out of that war, and he wanted to give her hope, meaning not even those days could last forever? Whatever his intentions were, she kept this small gift in high esteem, refusing to wear it not because it wouldn't have fitted with her clothes (that wasn't even true anymore; she had several garments she liked in a similar style) or Balaton, but in fear of losing or maiming it.

The ringing of her phone caught her off-guard- it was Austria. She answered it.
'Hallo, Roderich… did England tell you I have the material of the meeting for you?'
'No, he didn't, but I'm glad you do. When could you give them to me?' She was sure her voice sounded weird even in her neighbor's ears.
'Er… since, last time we met I went to you, why don't you come to Budapest? Next weekend or something.'
'Good idea. I will tell the exact time later. Bye.' And with that, he hung up on her. Hungary lowered the phone, looking at it sadly.

He doesn't know me that much, after all…

She was surprised to find that this thought was not followed by an unbearable, piercing pain in her heart as it would have been not so long ago- it only felt as a light punch, as if from young Italy. It looked like she moved on after Roderich… and so did he, apparently. Or he was just being the gentleman again and not asking, what was wrong with her. It was always difficult to tell what Roderich Edelstein thought… even if she herself could be secretive at times as well.
She sighed, finally sitting down to her laptop and connecting to the internet. Upon signing in to her e-mail address, she found several unread messages, even from various countries. Romano assured her Spain was all right and that he (Romano) would still look out, just to be sure. Germany said he just got video games (lent by Japan), beer and of course wurst for Gilbert, trying to keep him occupied and get him work the steam off. Feliciano didn't write yet, so she assumed he either didn't get to talk to Francis properly or he didn't succeed and kept trying. There was one mail from Francis himself, however. It practically told her to be prepared (although in a lot more words), and gave the month, day and address of the meeting. Some spams arrived, too, a reminder from her boss about the private audiences, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the last message to be from England. She opened it, cursing herself for getting so excited already.

Hello, Hungary,
I think you forgot one little thing when you said good-bye… I invited you to a concert, and told I'd tell you some dates and places. If you want a good place, come early- there's usually a crowd. And… wait for me after the show at the side entrance, will you? I… I mean… we don't want you to get lost again, do we?
A-anyway, write about when you'll come.
See you then!
England

And then came a list, consisting of dates, times, names and addresses of clubs; most had a link as well, so she could check better out if she was uncertain where it was (which happened in most of the cases). She felt her face becoming a bright red to put Japan's rising sun to shame: that little bit about the invitation totally slipped out of her mind! And she couldn't just go there and vanish, either: he expected her to wait, which meant talk will be inevitable. Hungary truly didn't know if she should cry with joy or with sorrow and shame as she wrote her answer.

Look at the bright side- all of these times are before the next meeting… I'll have at least something to look forward to…

AN
Getting there, getting there… xd three little remarks:
1,I listened to "Hakasama no Chou"(The Inversed Butterfly) by SNoW (opening of Jigoku Shoujo/Hell Girl, 1st series) recently again, and seeing the lyrics and their English translation, I couldn't resist… so, that's how the little gift came to be.
2,Out of the later Allied, Hungary had practically the best relations with England between the two world wars, and it stayed to be fairly normal even during WWII- or as normal as it could be with two opposing forces. Let it be noted, though, that none of the two countries soldiers had fought against each other (at least I never heard of a frontline where both had been present), and Churchill proposed disembarkation on the Balkan- as we know, he had been voted off; they might have thought that the mountains would make it too risky, plus Stalin was probably planning well beforehand.
3, Well... France and his grudge-holding might be familiar from the scene where he tries to force England into marrying him. After England refuses, about 10 or 15 years pass, when they try to join the EU- but are rejected by France. Only after Francis gets a new boss does the situation change.

ps: Do you have any good song ideas for England to sing? I think "Wake Me Up When September Ends", "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" and "American Idiot" (Oh, yeah, I couldn't leave America out xd) by Green Day and "My Interpretation" by Mika would be great for him, but I'd like to have a little more, in case I need them:)